


between the shadow and the soul

by aliatori



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV First Person, POV Second Person, Porn with Feelings, Romance, The Feels is Reals, and of course bottom!Gladio made it in there too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-18 01:26:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13089534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliatori/pseuds/aliatori
Summary: When a very specific challenge is issued to Gladio, he finds the pen to be mightier than the sword.





	1. Winter

**1 - Winter**  
_“Oh wind, if Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?” - Percy Bysshe Shelley_

Ignis,

I’ve been toying with the idea of writing this letter - or some version of it - for years, but recent events have given me the push I needed to see it through. It’s so hard to surprise you, but I’m hoping my efforts at cobbling together years of voracious reading and writing journals will do so.

Yes, dearest, pick your jaw up off your chest. I like to write, and my favourite subject to write about has consistently been you.

We’ve been together so long and been through so much that it’s hard to imagine that it wasn’t always this way. Despite the whole Chosen King business, I’ve never been huge on the concept of fate or destiny. The hopeless romantic part of me, however, likes to think that if soulmates are real, you are mine.

How many times have I told you that I love you, I wonder? I’m sure the number would be far beyond my ability to count, although you probably know a mathematical notation that could express it. But for as many times as I’ve whispered it in your ear, kissed it along your spine, left it along with fresh brewed coffee and a sylleblossom on the kitchen counter, I’ve kept that much more unsaid.

You asked me once, many years ago, what I even saw in you. I was lost for words then, but I’m not now. I intend to elaborate in as much detail as I can remember - starting from the beginning.

* * *

We knew of each other long before we knew each other, both of us promised to Noct from childhood. You captivated me from the first. 

You with your stiff posture, shining glasses, ironed clothes, and clipped accent. It’s hard to believe now, but I was annoyed during your formal induction to the Crownsguard. I knew your story. Everyone did. It was hard to miss when you were the Prince’s shadow, no more than two steps behind him at any given point, a prim specter. Our paths had crossed many times over the years, but this was the first point at which they collided.

You were so damn _perfect_ in every way on the outside that I felt… not threatened, but wary. Like you would make my job - and my life - harder. I know now, at least, that I was wrong on both points. You aren’t perfect, but damn close, and I have grown to love each and every one of your imperfections. And when the scales are balanced out across the years, you’ve done me so much good that I’d spend another lifetime tallying it all.

“Ignis Scientia,” you said, extending a hand.

“Gladiolus Amicitia,” I replied, taking yours. Your cool, firm grip was exactly as I imagined. But the look in your eyes, that was the real kicker. Underneath the cultivated gaze of the analytical advisor, the controlled eyebrows and smooth face sizing me up without showing any outward signs, there was a guttering spark; there was a fire to you, and the promise of a spectacular inferno in store for anyone who lit it.

I was smitten, even then, even though I was far too proud to admit it for some time to come.

I’ll never know if we would have said anything else to each other that day. Noct bounded out from the training room having changed into his street clothes, eager to be anywhere that wasn’t my domain. And, like always, you followed. Ever at his side.

* * *

A year passed with little more than nods, waves, and snippets of polite conversation between us. Back then our goals were opposite. I thought you were far too soft on Noct, though I now see the strength of your kindness, know the value of your empathy. During one particularly brutal training session that had dissolved into a royal tantrum, you intervened.

“Noct,” you said, your voice like your handshake, cool and firm, “Go change and begin your studies for the evening. I’ll be along within the hour.”

The Prince shot a look at me that boiled my blood in an instant before running off to obey you. Once he was out of sight, I whirled to face you, throwing my hands up in the air, disparaging. It was the first time I was angry enough to speak plainly to you.

“He’s never gonna learn anything if you keep babying him!” I said. The words came out louder than I intended.

You didn’t reply immediately, instead choosing to take off your jacket, folding it neatly and hanging it on one of the nearby weapons racks. I watched as you produced a pair of gloves from your pockets and drew them over your hands, slowly, flexing the long fingers of each of your hands until satisfied. You turned your back to me, one arm folded and a gloved hand curled under your chin, considering the dull practice blades. Once you had selected two daggers and gave them a few experimental thrusts and twirls, you turned back to me.

That ember I had caught in your gaze a year ago burned, blazed with challenge bright enough to catch me off guard. Every line of your face and body radiated control, your eyes the only source of chaos on your person.

“As I’m certain you’re aware, Noctis bears quite the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. While I respect your dedication to his physical conditioning, you must remember, Gladiolus, that people bend and bend… until they break,” you said, striding toward me with measured steps. “Noctis is by no means fragile, but he is under considerable strain. If you’re looking for someplace to vent your aggression, you’ll find me better suited to the task. I assure you that I can take some punishment.”

I stared at you, jaw slack, not quite believing what I was hearing. Before I could stop it, I barked out a laugh, harsh and echoing in the otherwise empty chamber.

“You offering to spar? Right now?” I knew you must be trained in combat as the prince’s right hand man, but when I looked at you then, all I could see was a bureaucratic nanny frustrated that I’d upset their charge.

Your chin tilted up, and despite the difference in our heights, I felt it was somehow _you_ looking down at _me_.

“Retrieve your weapons,” you commanded, and your haughty tone set my blood afire once more. I stomped to pick up my practice sword, not bothering with the shield, and fell into stance.

“Sure thing, Specs,” I said, parroting the nickname Noct often used for you. We settled into position, you and I, squaring off.

I underestimated you, badly. It was the first and last time I ever did so, both in the arena and out of it. You scored a touch on me with your dagger before I had time to blink, point resting against my chest as delicate as a snowdrop, and the flush I felt creep up my neck was as much from anger as embarrassment.

“Best of three?” you asked, chill as the winter air outside. I clenched my jaw to keep from swearing and we settled back into position.

I don’t think you realized how much you had gotten under my skin. There was no finesse in my motions, barely any control of the swings. The second point was mine only due to brute strength. I overpowered you, sent your daggers whirling out of your hands, and placed the dull blade of my sword to your heart.

“Point,” I growled, stalking away from you as we readied for the third bout.

I met your eyes again and saw the fire flicker, changing, its vexed nature tempered by something. Once again, you were sizing me up, and I knew we’d both be bringing our all to claim this last point. Something drove you as surely as my pride drove me.

We circled one another, wary. There was a fluid elegance to the way you sidestepped, feet weaving together, daggers crossed in front of you; it was a stance that eventually became as familiar to me as my own, but seeing it made the adrenaline rush through my veins. I lunged at you, trying to spear my sword through your daggers and break your guard, and then the fight began in earnest.

The staccato crack of practice blades filled the room as we clashed again and again. Both of us were breathing hard, pants and gasps punctuating each thrust or parry. You caught my blade between both of yours and twisted, nearly pulling it out of my grasp. I yanked the blade back and redoubled my offense, swinging the blade in a broad arc to take advantage of my superior reach. When you executed a neat backflip to dodge one of my strikes, a grin tugged at my lips unbidden.

Somewhere during this exchange I found that my anger had fled, replaced by the sweet ache of my muscles as we fought, the thrill of victory calling to me. Sweat dripped down my body in earnest, an exertion that never happened when training the prince. You surged forward, dominant hand extended, and the point of your blade missed me by a whisper. Sweat made your dress shirt cling to you, the pristine white soaked through at the back and arms, and I felt glad to see you have to work for a win.

You tired before I did - despite the enormous size of my ego, fighting was my duty and continued to be one of my passions long after duty ceased. My stamina was proving greater. 

When you finally twisted my blade out of my grip, leaving me defenseless, I saw an opening. You clearly hadn’t been expecting me to lower my body into a leg sweep, your dagger passing harmlessly over my head and your feet being taken out from under you. To your credit, you kept hold of one dagger.

Then I leapt to the ground as well, wrenched the remaining dagger from your fist with one hand and planted the other against your chest, pinning you. Gliding the blunt edge of your own weapon along the hollow of your throat, I lowered my face to yours before speaking.

“Match,” I declared.

You’ve asked me before to pinpoint the moment I knew I was attracted to you, and I can safely say that this was it. I had sparred many times with many people, wins and losses both, and the sweaty bodies and rippling muscles had done nothing for me. However, the sight of you panting beneath me, cheeks flushed, top button of your shirt undone in the fray, glaring daggers - a feeling twinged inside me that had been previously reserved for girlfriends or busty women lit by the blue light of a tablet screen.

Jubilant and shaken at the same time, I released my grip on you. Standing, I offered you a hand, which you accepted with more grace than I thought you would. You nodded and moved to collect your weapons, your compulsion to make sure everything is in its proper place still in tact.

“Let me know if you want a rematch,” I said. I had meant the words as a taunt, fully expecting to never face you again. But they came out as… hopeful. An open ended invitation.

You turned to me, jacket nestled in the crook of your arm, and actually smiled.

“I will.”

* * *

True to your word, you did. I was pleased and a little nervous when I saw you leaning against the doorframe, dressed in tight athletic clothing more suitable for sparring. I felt myself starting to sweat for reasons that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room, that _feeling_ that I tried not to examine too closely churning low in my abdomen.

“I came to inquire about a rematch,” you said simply, and all I could do was grin in response.

Every week or two you came by in the gap between Noct’s training and me leaving the palace. At first, I felt anxious, never knowing if today would be a day that you showed up or not. And then the anxiety slid into the most slippery of feelings, hope, my eyes wandering to the door at the end of every session, waiting for you to show. Hope bottomed out to disappointment on the days the doorway remained empty and clung to me, stubborn as stench, all the way home. 

Eventually, we began to chat after our bouts. Not for long - it felt like you always had a report to write, a dinner to cook, a meeting to attend - but enough for me to begin to see past the advisor to the other Ignis beneath, the one that I now thought of as a friend. And maybe more. In stolen snatches of time, I learned that Noct had his own apartment, which books you were reading, that you were trying to perfect a dessert for him, that you loved coffee possibly more than anything in the world, and that you enjoyed driving. 

I also learned that you liked men, but not through our conversations.

To tell you the truth, I don’t even remember what my father and I were arguing about that day, only that we argued. I could devote a whole book to my relationship with one Clarus Amicitia, but that’s not the purpose of this, so suffice to say that the fight was brutal. One of the worst.

I stomped through the glossy hallways of the palace, pacing back and forth down one of the main corridors, wanting to go home but not wanting to see my father’s face. Duty this, king that, Amicitia this - it was a music track on shuffle with my father, repeating the same song time and time again. I needed to move my body in order to clear my head, so I headed to the comfort of the practice room. It was late enough by this point that I was fairly certain I’d have the whole training area to myself.

My hoodie was already off in preparation for some warm up exercises when I rounded the corner and peered in the doorway. The sight I was greeted with froze me in my tracks, my heart thundering in my throat.

It was _you_. You, tucked away in the corner, only just visible from my vantage point. More importantly, it was you pressed against the wall by another man - Kingsglaive, I thought distantly, Nyx, like the name mattered - glasses off, your bare face contorted in lines of pleasure. Your shirt was crumpled in a heap on the ground, the muscles of your chest and stomach flexed like your body was a bowstring, taut and singing.

I stood transfixed as Nyx shoved his hand between your legs and palmed at the front of your pants, his head bent to your neck, nibbling the crook of your shoulder as he did so. The single, stifled moan you gave shot straight to my groin. I got so hard that it hurt, each pound of my heart making my erection ache. I knew that I should go, that the embarrassment of being caught like this would be more than I could take, but I couldn’t help looking and… well, and wishing it were me instead.

Another distant, dumb thought occurred to me in my lust hazed brain - I guess you had been practicing without me after all.

Nyx slid his own jacket to the floor, the metal buckles clinking against an uncovered section of tile, and it jolted me out of my thoughts. You ran your hands under Nyx’s shirt and up his back, gripping it like you’d lose your balance without it. I struggled against confusion, arousal, and jealousy, the feelings swirling through my mind like miasma. I’m not ashamed to say that I bolted from the palace, praying that no one saw me.

I ran all the way home, lungs and heart and head crackling and burning with a heat that I couldn’t get rid of. Once home, I locked myself in my room, barricading the door with my desk chair for good measure. I paced back and forth, prowling, the scene I wasn’t meant to see replaying in my mind. No matter what I tried to do to get it - get _you_ \- out of my mind, I couldn’t. I knew what the cure was, but Six, that would be a new low.

I laid on the bed and huffed out a noise that was a growl edged with a sigh. I got as far as unbuttoning my trousers and sliding the zipper down before pausing. Was I really going to do this? With nothing but the image of you being taken apart by Nyx looping through my mind, I was hard again, aching; my body wasn’t giving me much choice in the matter.

It didn’t take much at all for me to come, a few minutes of hurried, guilty stroking. After I came, when the heat had died back down to a flicker in the dark, all that remained was an overwhelming sense of shame, faint traces of a jealousy like venom laced between the cracks.

* * *

The next time you came to spar, I made what I’m sure was a lame excuse, shoving past you with my hoodie slung over a shoulder. I only caught a glimpse of your face as I left; I thought for a second that I saw a flicker of hurt ripple across your features before they composed again, ever the pragmatist, and I convinced myself I imagined the whole thing.

A week later you came earlier than usual, accompanying the Prince to his training. You were dressed up even more than usual, wearing a tailored black suit without a speck of dust on it. A thick file folder and tablet were tucked under your arm; you probably came straight from a meeting, and my thoughts wavered. You looked so damn good. But then I remembered Nyx, and that you were probably involved, and that you would have zero reason to ever be interested in me, and my twisted companion of frustration and jealousy reared its head once more. 

“You don’t need to stay,” I said, tossing a sword to Noct, who caught it easily. He was getting better.

“I’ve been tasked with an assessment of Noct’s current combat abilities. I’ll stay out of the way,” you replied. There was the strategist again in place of Ignis, cool and calm, and I only managed to shake my head once as a reply.

Maybe it was the fact that you were watching, or maybe I’d been failing to notice how much Noct had improved, or maybe I was too distracted, but Noct almost bested me that day. When we were done, I smiled and grabbed the Prince by the shoulders with one arm, rubbing my knuckles in his messy hair.

“Gladio, get offa me,” he said, but he was laughing as he spoke, twisting and ducking out of my headlock.

“I’m proud of you, kid,” I replied, forgetting that you were in the room. Noct grinned.

“Thanks, _Gladdy_ ,” he said, jogging off before I could wrap him in another headlock.

“I know you learned that from Iris! Don’t call me that!” I called after him.

“Ok, Gladdy!” he yelled back, and then a door slammed and he was gone. Damn kid, I thought, placing a hand across my forehead and shaking my head again, but I felt a surge of affection for the Prince. He had been in a good mood and good form that day; it made it easier to feel caring instead of the other emotions that had the tendency of cropping up when I thought of Noct.

“He’s something else,” I muttered to myself, scooping up the haphazardly strewn pieces of his practice armor off the floor.

“You should see my attempts to get him to read minutes from Council meetings, which is next on the docket for the evening,” you said. I jumped, remembering your presence.

“Hah, well, good luck with that one. Sometimes it’s all I can do to get him off his phone for an hour,” I said, what I hoped was amiably.

“Your relationship with Noct seems to have improved,” you commented, pushing the bridge of your glasses up with two slim fingers. I sighed, scratching the back of my head. It was starting to grow out and damn itchy in the process.

“Were you sent to assess that, too?” I asked, backsliding on my efforts to be friendly.

“Personal curiosity only,” you said, the barest edges of a smile quirking at your lips.

“A weird thing to be curious about,” I said. All you offered in response was a lift of one shoulder, graceful and understated.

The quiet stretched between us, an intangible shift. Where once we would have chatted about some minor event of the day, there was a silence thick as sin. I tried - and failed, failed miserably - to keep the image of your tryst out of my head, but there it was again, tormenting me.

I cleared my throat only to break the silence. Your sharp green eyes seemed to drill into me, to peel me apart layer by layer until my most clandestine thoughts were exposed. You still do that from time to time; it’s the very definition of intense. But back then, in that moment, it was too much.

“Catch ya later, Ignis,” I said, waving to you as I passed.

“Farewell, Gladio,” you replied. I could still feel your eyes on me long after I had gone.

* * *

When you showed up to the practice room later in the week, dressed to spar, I had decided that I was through nursing my bruised ego. Or at least, that’s what I thought I had decided.

“Let us make a wager today,” you said airily, pulling on your gloves.

“Didn’t take you for a gambling man,” I said, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“I’m not. However, I thought increased stakes might motivate me to a higher level of performance. I win once for every six bouts and I believe I could improve upon that ratio,” you replied. I should have noted the wicked curve in your smile, the one that I know now means you’re about to demolish someone with a flawlessly executed plan, but I didn’t.

“I’m sorta broke with Yuletide coming up, so I hope you weren’t looking for money or anything,” I said.

“Not money, no. My thought was that the prize for the victor would be a question, one that the loser must answer truthfully. Best of one,” you replied. I narrowed my eyes, watching as you folded your arms across your chest.

“So, what, we’re gonna play truth or dare now? We still in high school?” I asked disdainfully. My nerves jangled in alarm; there were a lot of questions you could ask that I didn’t want to answer, and I knew I’d screw up lying if it came to that.

“Is that a trace of fear that I’m detecting? Fear, from the great Gladiolus Amicitia, future Shield of the King and accomplished soldier?” you asked. Your taunt hit the mark with alarming accuracy.

“You’re on, Ignis,” I replied, sealing my fate. We shook on it and then went to the weapons rack.

You selected a polearm that day. I could have chosen a two handed sword, or even a sword and shield, but my pride was making a valiant effort to shield me from my conflicted thoughts. I took up a sword alone, riding the wave of confidence that crested through me. I could do this, and it would be fine. I even knew the question I’d ask you when I won.

You came at me like a man possessed as soon as we began the match. Gone were your artful twirls and precise thrusts; you were out for blood. Or, more precisely, for an answer. It was all I could do to parry the storm of blows you rained down on me, the point of your lance in a thousand places at once.

When did you get so strong, I wondered. Each time I rose my sword to block one of your strikes, I felt it vibrate all the way up my arm. I was no stranger to the pain, but the force rocked through me like thunder.

I put up a good fight, giving it everything I had, but I was outmatched. You used the same trick on me that I had on you, all those bouts ago, and swept my feet out from under me. In the handful of seconds where I couldn’t defend, the point of your lance was in the hollow of my throat.

“Match,” you said, green eyes sparkling like gems, and the first jolt of icy fear shot through me.

You helped me up, even dusted off the back of my shirt, and I was so aware of the touch that it crackled like electricity across my skin. We stood there, practice weapons still in hand.

“Well, you win, fair and square. Ask your question, Ignis,” I said, thrusting my chest forward in a display of bravado. When I worked up the courage to flick my gaze over to you, it was as though a mask had fallen away. You didn’t look proud, or cocky, or even just a little happy; instead, your face was drawn in on itself, pinched into tense lines, and your green eyes were so very, very sad.

“Perhaps it was a foolish notion, but I had thought… I had thought that we were friends. At least, I thought that up until you stopped sparring with me. Or conversing with me. Or taking any course of action except determined avoidance of me,” you said.

I have always wished I handled this part better.

“I’m not hearing a question in any of that,” I said, too rough, too harsh against the subtlety of your sorrow.

“What changed?” you asked, the words like heartbreak shaped into sound.

I spun around in a circle, heaving a sigh. I couldn’t make myself look at you, couldn’t take the sight of your uncertainty cracking through your polished perfectionist exterior. But I knew I had to tell you the truth. I owed you that much, at least. After a few false starts, I spat it out.

“I saw you. With Nyx,” I said.

“Oh,” you breathed. “I... I apologize that you were subjected to that. Did you stop talking to me because I’m attracted to men, then?” you pressed on.

“Astrals, Ignis, no, I don’t care that you like guys. It’s none of my business who you like. Well, I mean, except when it’s... you know... in public. But, _hell_ , this is awkward,” I said, realizing that I was babbling but unable to stem the flow.

“Then _why_? It was a one time thing in a desperate, idiotic moment. I realize that my social ability outside of boardrooms and meetings could use improvement, and I know I’m always looking after Noct, but…” you trailed off. I stole a glance after you finished. Despite the strain in your voice, your face remained impassive.

I could have answered any number of ways. I could have laughed it off, clapped you on the back, made light of it. I could have told you the whole truth: that your name and face were seared into my mind, brighter than the palace shining in the sun, a beacon in my waking thoughts and in my dreams alike. I could have just admitted, the easiest answer of all, that I wanted you. Wanted to be _with_ you.

“You got your question and your answer. You’re not getting any more,” I snarled, not strong enough to do any of those things. I stormed out of the practice room and left you standing there alone.

I’m sorry.

* * *

Like so many of the pivotal moments in our life together, the tipping point came down to Noct. A week after our exchange, he came rushing in the practice room at our usual time, breathing hard as though he’d been sprinting.

“Gladio, I need a huge favor. The hugest. I’d owe you so big,” Noct said.

“If you’re trying to get out of practice…” I started, taking a few steps towards the prince.

“No, I swear I’m not! I mean, I am, but it’s for a good reason this time,” he admitted, a sheepish hand on the back of his neck. “It’s Yuletide in like, a week, and I wanted to go pick a gift out for Specs. I know what I want to get him, but the problem is I can’t get away from him long enough to buy it without him knowing. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

I narrowed my eyes. This was either the most touching thing I’d heard out of Noct or some sort of nefarious teenage plot - probably involving Prompto, cell phones, and stupid stunts - to get into trouble.

Of course, I hadn’t seen you since that evening in the practice room. Noct clearly wasn’t aware that anything had happened between us, or I don’t think he would have been asking for my help.

“So you want me to do what, exactly? Tie him up and toss him in a closet? He’s your chamberlain. He doesn’t take orders from me,” I said, throwing my arms in the air as I looked down at Noct.

“No, man, I dunno. Can’t you distract him for a couple of hours? It’s Friday night. Go out for a drink or something.”

I laughed in earnest at this. “Does Ignis even drink? Now that would be a sight worth seeing.”

“There’s one way to find out,” Noct said. He had sidled up beside me and elbowed me in the side, looking up and grinning. “Pleeeeeeease?”

“Fine. Fine! I’ll try,” I agreed. Noct whooped in victory.

“That’s awesome to hear, Gladio, because I already texted him using your phone and now I really have to go in case he shows up, okay? Thanks again, and you should really put a passcode on that, bye!”

I watched in horror as Noct literally warped out of the room, gone in the blink of an eye. I dashed over to the cubicle where I kept my phone during practice and sure enough, the new message indicator was blinking. I swiped to see what ‘I’ had sent as well as a message from you.

_G: noct bailed on practice, so you dont need to come wait for him. was wondering if you wanted to catch a break for a bit. maybe grab a drink._

That little _shit_. I made a mental note to thrash him next practice before continuing to your reply.

_I: I’m surprised to see you typing using whole words, even if the punctuation is lacking. It’s been an excruciating week - a drink or two would certainly be in order. Any suggestions on the place?_

I stared at the device in my hand, emotions filtering through me: fond annoyance at the jab about my texting grammar, a flicker of surprise at you admitting it had been a hard week. The surprise increased in a magnitude great enough to make me nauseous when I got to your acceptance. 

I blinked once, twice, staring at the phone. It really had worked. The things I did for king and country. For Noct, really. I typed out a reply, my thumbs padding along the screen in deliberate motions as I made sure to spell out each word and capitalize appropriately.

_G: Coin and Crown is on Regency St. Pretty close to the palace and has some good drinks. See you in an hour?_

You, of course, never let a text wait for more than three minutes before responding. An unanswered text is an item outstanding, and you can’t have those.

_I: See you then._

* * *

You were already waiting outside the Coin when I arrived. I checked the time - no, I wasn’t late, you were just early. Snow had started to fall on my way over. The gentle, drifting flurries stuck to your black coat for a blink before melting. Your breath misted into ephemeral clouds as you waited, arms crossed, sculpted profile looking out over the bustling Yuletide crowds. So gorgeous.

I stopped, rocking back on my heels, and expelled a harsh breath. I’d come to terms with being attracted to you and didn’t think too much about what label to slap on it, but not with how I left you at practice. I wanted to apologize to you, but you’ve always been the one with all the right words. Well, spoken words, anyway.

Your eyes locked with mine as you scanned the crowd, and I knew I’d have to make due with what little courage I’d manage to summon. You gave the tiniest of smiles, more the suggestion of one than any physical curve of your lips, but it was enough. 

“Hey there,” I said as I approached, giving you a light jab on the shoulder. Trying doggedly to be causal, trying too hard. I cursed Noct, finding it easier to lay the blame on him.

“Hello. Shall we head in?” you asked. You kept your expression neutral but I could see the tension in your body, wound up like a spring.

“Yeah, it’s damn cold out here. Didn’t realize it had started snowing,” I said, opening the door to the bar and motioning you to go in ahead of me. You hesitated for an instant and then went through, back straight, head held high.

I remember thinking that you suited this place, its plush gold and black decor complementing your pale features and impeccable peacoat. Once we were both inside the warm comfort of the Coin, I took the lead, motioning for you to follow me to a pair of seats at the far edge of the U-shaped bar. I let you choose your seat. You picked the very last one, wedging yourself between me and a lacquered wall.

“Quite lovely,” you said. I watched as your eyes flickered between the bottles on the shelves, to the bustling tables behind us, to me, analyzing every detail of your surroundings, eyes glittering.

My study of you was interrupted by a cheery voice chiming through my thoughts. I glanced up and - shit, I was an idiot. The blonde curls of one Sentia Cico bobbed in front of me, her grin bright.

“Gladio! So good to see you tonight, it’s been a while. What can I get for you and your friend?” she asked.

I’d been here before, yeah, and in my haste to pull together this plan, I forgot that I’d dated one of the bartenders. Specifically, the bartender currently standing in front of me, asking for our drink orders. Things had ended well between us - we still talked from time to time - but it added another layer of complicated to this whole situation. Inwardly, at least.

“The usual for me, thanks. And Ignis… ?” I asked, looking at you.

“Surprise me,” you said to Sentia, tapping your pointer finger thoughtfully against your lips.

“Ooooh, someone with a sense of adventure. Love it! I’ll be back lickety split,” Sentia said, going to make our drinks and flitting between other customers.

“The very definition of vivacious,” you said after she left, a wry smile twisting your lips.

“Yeah, she’s like that. I’m a little worried that you told her to surprise you. She can really mix up some real bombs - might have to carry you home,” I said.

“I’m quite capable of holding my liquor, I assure you,” you replied.

“I’m not really worried so much about the holding liquor part. Her drinks are more like… fire flasks, or live explosives, when you give her free rein,” I said.

“I’m no stranger to fire, either,” you said, giving that small, secret smile. You looked around to see if anyone was watching - a fair thought, given the Prince’s advisor and future Shield were sitting together at a bar - then snapped your fingers. My eyes widened as a small flicker of flame rose between them, wavered between your fingertips, then vanished.

“Shit. King’s magic, huh? Brilliant, deadly and magical. A real triple threat,” I said.

“That sounded suspiciously like a compliment, Gladio,” you replied. Light glinted off your glasses as you turned to face me, resting your head on one balled up fist.

I guess it was. Were we flirting? Astrals, I had no idea.

“Just giving credit where credit is due,” I replied, but my heart stuttered in my chest, its pace quickening.

Sentia swept back by us, two glasses clinking on the counter in front of us. A tall handled mug full of a deep amber lager sat in front of me, brewed in house and a personal favourite. A martini glass full of swirling red, green and white liquid rested in front of you, a small ribbon tied around the stem.

“One usual, one special. Enjoy!” Sentia called, bouncing away once more.

“Well, Iggy,” I said, the nickname coming to my lips unbidden, “Cheers.”

You raised your glass and clinked it against mine. I took a long pull on my beer, suffusing my wavering courage with a hit of the liquid kind. True to form, you sipped at your drink, for all the world treating it like it was some kind of puzzle to unravel.

“Any good?” I asked.

“Yes, to my surprise. The cream and fruit flavours disguise the alcohol well, but you were correct about its strength,” you replied. You ran your tongue across your lips and licked away a thin line of foam left from the drink, wiping away any thought I had along with it. How did you manage to make that look so sexy?

“It looks good. Sorta wish I got one for myself,” I admitted, choosing to examine the glass rather than you.

You went quiet and took another sip, your eyes unfocused, your mind in a place far away from the Coin and Crown. The noise of the bar crowded in on us, the babble of conversation and clink of utensils a wash of white noise. You tilted your head to one side and came back to reality, a revelation alight in your eyes.

“Hulldagh nutmeg!” you said.

“Uh, sorry?” I asked, not sure what you meant.

“There’s a distinctive spice in this. It’s nutmeg. Hulldagh nutmeg, specifically, usually found in the Old Lestallum region. It provides a sharp counterpoint to the other spices in the drink,” you explained, hands waving in excitement, including the one with the drink.

“Hah, careful there, Iggy, or you’ll lose the rest of it before you get the chance to take it apart,” I said, reaching out and gently pressing the wrist of the hand that held your drink to the counter.

You looked at my hand over your wrist and then up to me, the delight on your face fading out. I wondered if I had overstepped - I knew I had a tendency to be too touchy at the best of times - but you simply patted my hand with your free one.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No prob,” I replied, removing my hand. Were you interested in me, after all? I couldn’t tell. It took many years before I learned how to read you, and I still think I get it wrong half the time.

“Any Yuletide plans?” I asked, falling back on the age old conversation starter at this time of year.

“Actually, yes. I’d been meaning to touch base with you about Yuletide, so tonight presented a convenient opportunity. Prince Noctis has asked if we could have a celebration at his apartment. He wished to invite you and Prompto for a small dinner party,” you said.

I chuckled. “A dinner party that you’ll be catering, I’m guessing?”

“You guess correctly. It won’t be any trouble. It’ll be nice to have company on Yuletide,” you said, meeting my eyes. You weren’t smiling, not quite, but there was a sparkle in your gaze.

“Do you usually spend it alone?” I asked.

“In years past the palace has hosted a large, formal party for Yuletide, but they’re foregoing it this year. When Noct - Prince Noctis - asked to host a get together, I found I couldn’t say no,” you replied.

“When do you ever find it in you to say no to him?”

“Quite frequently. Far more frequently than he heeds me when I say it,” you replied, taking a longer drink than usual from your glass and rubbing your temples.

“Stubborn, that one. Annoys the piss out of me. Never asked for a little brother on top of a little sister, but I think I got one anyway,” I reply, mostly thinking aloud, “But he’s doing better. He’s got a long way to go, sure, but he’s doing better. So maybe he listens more than you think.”

“Thank you for that,” you said. You paused, and I swore I saw hints of pride in the way your face tilted up, the rounding of your cheeks. “So I can mark you as attending, then? Noct mentioned that there would be no need for gifts.”

If there was no need for gifts, I thought, what was with Noct’s excuse today? I considered mentioning it to you, but the night was going so well that I didn’t want to spoil the mood. Resolved to deal with Noct later if need be, I pointed at your empty glass.

“You can, as you say, mark me as attending. Another round?”

“Please.”

* * *

Three drinks later, you pulled out your phone, squinting behind your glasses to look at the time.

“Bloody hell,” you muttered, tossing back the remnants of your fourth Yuletide Special and setting the glass back on the counter a little too hard.

“Is it that time already?” I asked. I had kept pace with you, and while I wasn’t in any danger of losing control of anything too important, a fuzzy warmth floated through me and dissolved my filter in its wake.

“No, I’m off duty for the evening. But I am going to be trapped in a meeting room starting at seven tomorrow, so I’d best be off and to try to get some sleep,” you replied.

I caught Sentia’s eye and slid a card towards her when she reached us, which she palmed with practiced ease.

“I’ll walk ya home,” I said. I knew you’d be fine on your own - you were more loose than I’d ever seen you, sure, but not gone - but it seemed the gentlemanly thing to do.

“You don’t have to,” you said quickly. Too quickly.

“The walk will be good for me. Help me clear my head. Besides, I want to,” I said. I wanted nothing more than to stretch out this night, relish in my fantasy of pretending we were together for just a few more minutes. You didn’t press the issue further, studying me with that penetrating green gaze.

Sentia brought my card back and waved cheerfully, giving me a wink before turning back to her other customers.

Our tab settled, we stood up, layering ourselves against the cold outside. The crowds in the Coin had picked up; we jostled against each other in the limited space, laughing as we did. The drinks made it painless, eroded away at the wall I had constructed to keep you - and all my thoughts of you - out.

“You’re gonna have to lead the way, since I have no idea where you live,” I said. I shivered a bit as we stood outside, hands shoved in my pockets.

“Then lead the way I shall,” you said, chill and alcohol combining in the pink flush of your cheeks. We started down the snow dusted streets, and for a time the only sound was that of the thinning Yuletide crowds and the crunch of our shoes in the snow.

You lived closer than I thought. It made sense, given that you needed to be on call for Noct, but I found myself wistful when we stood outside the black tower of your apartment building. Seeing the smiling, witty, relaxed - _mostly_ relaxed - side of you tonight had only made my crush even more apparent. My chest felt tight every time you spoke or laughed or breathed, a pang of longing flexing its sharp points within me.

You stopped off to the side of the main entrance to your building, folding your arms and considering me. 

“I need to be perfectly clear on something, Gladio,” you said, a phrase I would become intimately familiar with, all serious. My stomach flip flopped in a way that even the pleasant eddy of tipsiness couldn’t conceal.

“Go for it,” I said, braver than I felt.

“Was this a date?” you asked.

Yes. No. Maybe. My thoughts flashed like channels on the television, staying only long enough to get a brief glimpse of their shape before they were gone. I felt more sober than the amount of alcohol I consumed would suggest I should. I wanted it to be a date, but I also didn’t initiate it, not really, so was it fair to say it was? I must have taken too long to answer, because you spoke again.

“If this whole evening was some… some exercise in pity, please just tell me. I have no wish to be taken for a fool,” you continued, holding onto your control, but barely.

I closed the gap between us, putting my hands on your shoulders. “Astrals, Iggy, no. I know I can be an asshole every now and then, but even I wouldn’t do something as mean as string you along out of pity. I’ve…” Spit it out, I thought to myself, “Speaking of being an asshole, I’ve been meaning to apologize about the way I acted about the whole Nyx thing. I’m sorry.”

Your face tilted up towards me. I forgot how to breathe for a heartbeat, two, three. Your lips were parted slightly, eyes widened, the most vulnerable I would see you for a long time to come. Falling snow dotted your shoulders and hair in vanishing prickles of white. I was afraid I would snap the moment in half, shatter this secret Ignis with my clumsy attempts to express how I felt.

“Apology accepted,” you said, “However, you still didn’t answer the question.” There was the other side of you peeking through, your need to remove any traces of ambiguity. I considered for a few seconds before speaking.

“Did you want it to be a date?” I asked.

“Yes,” you replied, “I did. I _like_ you, Gladio, far more than I care to admit.”

“Then,” I said, drawing you closer, wrapping my arms around you in a tight embrace, “It was a date.” I couldn’t make the words out to be more than a whisper, but there they were. I said it.

Even under the influence of three Yuletide Specials, you were stiff at first. Then slowly, ever so slowly, you relaxed. Your arms wound around my waist and your face buried in my shoulder. Your body was more firm under my grip than I expected despite the padding of coat and sweater. We fit together so well that I didn’t want to let you go, wanted to bury my lips in your hair and memorize the scent of you, but when I felt the pressure of you pulling back, I released my grip. You wiped your cheeks with two brisk passes of your sleeves across your face. There was the royal advisor again, defenses shored up, any hint of weakness contained.

“I’ll see you at the party?” you asked.

“You bet, Iggy,” I replied, giving your shoulder one last squeeze. I watched as you turned, entered your apartment building, and vanished out of sight.

I floated all the way home. When I felt my phone buzz in my pocket along the way, I pulled it out to see a message from you.

_I: Thank you for tonight._

I smiled. My heart stutter-stepped in my chest - I couldn’t figure out why you made me feel this way, and I wasn’t going to try. I was just going to do my best to be worthy of you. Across all the years, that’s all I’ve ever tried to do - to be worthy of your affection. And eventually, of your love.

I typed out a reply with fingers that trembled from more than the cold.

_G: Hope we can do it again soon._

* * *

When I knocked on the door to Noct’s apartment, I exhaled a long breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I’d been nervous the whole way over. We hadn’t seen each other since the night at the Coin; I had done a great job of not thinking about that night, throwing myself into training and Yuletide celebrations with Iris and the rest of my family. But as soon as I started the walk over, it’s all I could think about.

I don’t know why, but I had expected Noct to answer the door to his own apartment. When you appeared in the doorframe instead, wearing a red and green sequined apron over your ironed dress shirt and slacks, I couldn’t help but laugh. The chuckle untangled the nervous knot in my chest

“Looking very festive there, Iggy,” I said, reaching out and tugging at the apron. Your lips twitched, the barest flash of a grin, then settled back into neutrality.

“It is Yuletide, after all. A certain amount of festiveness is permissible. Even encouraged,” you replied, standing aside so that I could come in.

It smelled amazing in the apartment, my mouth watering before I could even finish taking off my shoes in the foyer. The place was spotless, the table set with elegant silverware and a twisting golden centrepiece. Electronic crashes and thuds sounded from the living room. Noct and Prompto were both sitting cross-legged in front of the TV, controllers in hand, playing some sort of game where their avatars were fighting one another. They were so absorbed that they didn’t immediately notice that I had arrived.

You caught my eye, indulged yourself with a single eye roll in their direction accompanied by a wry twist of your lips, and started towards the kitchen. I followed you, mostly because I didn’t want to let you out of my sight, but also because the delicious smell originated from said kitchen.

“Can I help with anything?” I asked from the opposite side of the breakfast bar. I didn’t hold a candle to you - still don’t - but I prided myself in knowing enough about cooking to make myself useful.

“It’s all under control here. Dinner will be ready in an hour, so please make yourself at home until then,” you replied, annihilating a leafy head of spinach with a large chef’s knife.

“Mmmmkay. Well, let me know if you need an extra pair of hands,” I said.

You looked up from the cutting board, our gazes snapping together like magnets. This was all too fresh and delicate to chance touching you - which I found myself wanting to do, very badly - but I did wink at you while Noct and Prompto couldn’t see. Your eyebrows flicked up your forehead; when you returned your attention to dinner, you had drawn your lower lip between your teeth, and I had to look away.

I crossed over into the living room, my steps slow and quiet. I hadn’t forgotten the fact that Noct had commandeered my phone, and I saw the perfect opportunity for revenge unfolding in front of me. People assume that I’m not good at being quiet because of my size, but every good soldier knows the value of stealth, and I intended to use it.

I waited until I was standing right behind Noct and Prompto. In one swift motion I squatted, placed an arm around both of their shoulders, and pulled their blonde and black haired heads towards me in a hug.

“Not even gonna say hi to me, huh?” I asked, tone cheerful.

Prompto yelped, followed by a descending trill from the TV. I grinned as the words ‘Player Two Victory’ flashed on the screen.

“Nice, Gladio, real nice. You just made me lose,” Noct whined, struggling under my grip. I let him go, ruffling his already messy hair with a hand as I did. 

“Consider it payback. You know what for,” I said to Noct, whose lower lip was dangerously close to jutting out in a pout.

Prompto whooped, one fist pumping in the air. “Thanks, big guy! I’ve been getting my butt kicked all night, so I’ll take what I can get,” he said. I thumped Prompto on the back a couple times before releasing him as well.

Satisfied, I took both myself and my feeling of vindication to the couch, choosing the seat closest to the armrest. I stretched one arm out across the back of it and crossed my legs, getting comfortable.

Prompto produced his phone and took a selfie with the victory screen, fingers thrown up in a V. Noct jabbed him in the shoulder, the motion playful rather than forceful.

“You’re shameless, you know that?” Noct asked Prompto.

“Dude, you can call me whatever you want, but it’s not gonna stop me from posting it,” Prompto replied, gleeful smile plastered on his freckled face.

“Yeah, but _I_ can stop you from posting it,” Noct declared, tackling Prompto to the ground and wrestling for the phone. The struggle lasted for all of ten seconds before both boys abruptly dissolved into helpless laughter, untangling themselves from one another between bouts of giggles.

You stood in the kitchen with your arms crossed, monitoring the situation, ever watchful. I tilted my head towards the pair and raised an eyebrow to ask a question I couldn’t speak - _are they always like this?_ I remember thinking that Noct couldn’t have looked any less a king for all his 17 years; I didn’t know yet the price that would be asked of him, of all of us, but the thought was still unkind.

You lifted your shoulders in a minute shrug, head tilted as if you were apologizing. I shrugged in return. Letting them be young for tonight of all nights wasn’t too much to ask, and so I sank further into the couch as Noct and Prompto began another game.

The couch seemed to mold itself to my body, comfort fit for a prince. I hadn’t thought myself tired, but my energy flagged as dinner approached. Even the occasional shouts of the prince and his friend interspersed between the battle cries of their characters weren’t enough to chase the drowsiness away. I stole glances at you from across the room; you were preoccupied for most of them, but the few times you met my gaze shot adrenaline into my system, dragging me back to wakefulness.

I passed the time by studying the tree that had been set up in the corner of the living room. The immaculate spacing of the decorations, the precise angle of the star on top of the tree, and the colour-coordinated ornaments spoke of your careful attention, the need for everything to be just so. The only things out of place were the rainbow coloured lights strung in haphazard loops around the tree and the three messily wrapped presents beneath it.

Wait. Presents?

“Dinner is ready,” you called from the kitchen, and the raucous growl of my stomach devoured my train of thought.

Your announcement made Noct turn off the TV and game console in a flash, his butt parked in a seat at the table with a speed I wished I saw more of in training. Prompto planted himself opposite Noct almost as fast, practically vibrating with excitement. I sat across from Prompo and left the seat across from Noct for you.

You outdid yourself with the spread that Yuletide. You piled dish after dish on the table, the serving platters encroaching on the space for our individual plates. Once everything was on the table, you finally sat down. I think only I noticed your small sigh, the quirk of your lips - a job completed and completed well.

“Let’s eat!” Prompto cried, and with that the two younger boys dug in with gusto. I followed suit, dodging the frenetic utensils wielded by Noct and Prompto as they piled their plates high.

Our hands brushed as we went for the same plate; it took all my control not to jerk my hand away as if burned.

“After you,” you said. Did I detect a smoky hint to your voice, its register almost imperceptibly lowered?

“Thanks,” I replied, hoping that I heard correctly.

All of us - myself included - were too busy for the first half of the meal for much conversation to happen. Once hunger no longer gnawed circles around my stomach, I recalled my manners and broke the silence.

“This is really fantastic, Iggy. Seriously. I think it might be the best dinner I’ve ever eaten,” I said once my mouth was no longer full, waving a fork to punctuate the statement.

“Yeah, this is awesome,” Prompto agreed, speaking around a mouthful of mashed sweet potatoes. Noct mumbled what may or may not have been an agreement, shoveling roasted brisket into his mouth.

“I’m glad you’re all enjoying it,” you said, gaze fixated on your own plate.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw you reach towards me under the table. Your hand slid across the top of my thigh and give it the softest of squeezes, affectionate and tender. You withdrew it as though nothing had happened and returned to cutting your brisket into identical pieces, leaving only the blood roaring in my ears.

Once plates were empty and bodies slumped in varying degrees of relaxation in chairs, you stood, moving to gather up the dirty utensils. I scraped my chair backwards and stood as well.

“I got this,” I said, taking the plate that you held from your grasp and beginning to collect the others.

“Gladio…” you started, a touch of uncertainty beneath my name on your lips.

“Relax, I got this,” I repeated, “I am a man of many talents, the least of which happens to be washing dishes.” Noct snorted at this and I shot him a glare.

“You wanna clean up instead?” I asked.

“Not really,” he drawled, eyes lidded.

“That’s what I thought,” I said, shaking my head as I took his plate from him.

You ended up helping anyway, because that’s what you do. We worked in tandem, you packing up and storing the leftovers while I got the plates and utensils clean enough to go in the dishwasher. Once the harder to clean pans were soaking and our own hands washed and dried, I couldn’t help but place my hand on the small of your back.

“I appreciate the assistance,” you said. I regarded you openly for the first time that evening. You had hung the sequined apron beside another plain black one on the wall, revealing your usual dress shirt and slacks. I found myself struck by how you glowed with pride, how it made you even more handsome, found myself wanting to lean down and kiss the hints of a smile that played out across your lips.

“Uh, guys. I almost forgot something,” Noct said.

We both straightened, my hand gone from your back in a flash. My heart hammered a few painful beats before I saw the presents cradled in Noct’s arms. The prince stood by the tree, eyes downcast, feet pointed towards each other. We relocated to the living room, the four of us standing in a circle.

“All riiiiight, presents!” Prompto said, doing what he did best, radiating uncomplicated joy into the atmosphere. The tension in Noct eased and he tossed his friend the largest gift in the pile.

“Woah, it’s heavy. Can I open it?” Prompto asked.

“Sure,” Noct said. As Prompto tore into the slapdash paper wrapping, Noct approached you, handing you a small box. He didn’t say anything before he turned towards me, shoving the last gift at me.

“Thanks, Noct,” I said, touched and surprised, clasping his upper arm and jostling it a bit.

“It’s not a big deal,” he replied, but I caught a fever dream of a smile on his face before he turned back to Prompto.

“Dude, I can’t believe you actually got me this. How did you even know this was the model I wanted? This is awesome!” Prompto gushed, holding up shining camera that had far too many buttons.

“You only talked about it, like, every day,” Noct said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. His pose was broken by Prompto throwing his arms around Noct in an exuberant hug, the blonde babbling thanks.

“Well, shall we open our gifts, Gladio?” you asked me. I chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess we should,” I replied.

Underneath the glitter encrusted paper was a box the size of my palm. I cracked it open and paused, surprised for what felt like the millionth time that night. A large necklace rested inside the box, nestled by a bed of silk. The black beaded cord came to a point with two obsidian skulls; underneath the skulls was a crossed pendant in the shape of an X. I didn’t wear much jewelry, but Noct had somehow found a piece that suited my tastes completely.

I looked over to you and saw a thin silver chain dangling between your fingers, a miniature platinum skull hanging at the end. You looked at me and arched an eyebrow as if to ask - did you have anything to do with this? I shook my head, just as perplexed as you.

With Prompto done gushing for the moment, Noct fixed us with a searching stare, waiting for our reactions.

“This. Is. Badass,” I said. And I meant it. I set the box on the coffee table so that both of my hands were free. I put the necklace on, its clasp large and simple to manipulate; the pendant fell right above my sternum.

“Thank you, Noct. This makes a fine gift,” you said, ever formal. You reached to put your own necklace on and I watched as you struggled with the clasp. After a few seconds, I covered your hands with mine, feeling for the clasp with my fingertips.

“Here,” I said. With a squint, I hooked the tiny circle into the claw of the clasp. With the necklace secured, I moved my hands away and let you adjust it to your liking.

“If you thought you were getting out of this without a hug, you’ve got another thing coming,” I said to Noct. I enjoyed the brief glint of panic in his eyes before drawing him into a side hug. Prompto snuck in on Noct’s other side, draping the Prince’s arm over his shoulder.

You hesitated until Noct spoke again.

“If I have to suffer, so do you, Specs,” Noct said.

The words unfroze you. You filled the gap between Prompto and me, one arm over Prompto’s shoulder and another around my waist. I noticed that you pressed your body close to mine until I could feel the solid line of you all the way down, and I relished the sensation.

Prompto began to laugh, and his laugh echoed through the rest of us, light and lovely and free.

* * *

Noct made a half-hearted attempt at starting another game with Prompto, but before long the black haired boy was curled on the couch, fast asleep. Prompto took up the side opposite Noct and was out like a light right after.

“I guess that’s my cue to go,” I said quietly, smiling across the table at you. You had made a pot of coffee for us; I drained what was left in my cup, grateful for the warmth.

“Let me drive you home,” you said.

“Won’t say no to a lift, not in this weather,” I replied, but I could already feel my heart pounding out a faster rhythm, fueled by hope.

You made your last round through the apartment, flicking off lights and closing doors. We put on our coats and shoes by a single dim light in the foyer. I opened the door in a smooth, slow motion, trying to minimize the noise. You followed me out and locked the door behind you, then checked it twice more to be sure.

Once we were in front of the elevator, you pushed the button to call it and settled back against the wall to wait, eyes forward.

Feeling like I was 15 again and completely new at all of this, I took a deep breath to steady myself. A soft chime announced the elevator’s arrival and we went in. You pressed the button for the parking garage and the door swooshed closed.

What could I even say? The floors ticked down, one after the other, taking us down. I wanted to touch you more than anything in the world at that moment, craved your skin and breath and warmth like it was the only thing that could sustain me, but I had no idea how to ask. I shuffled a few phrases through my mind before giving up on eloquence.

“Iggy, I… Iggy, this is kind of uncharted territory for me, and I...” I started. I didn’t finish.

You turned to me and laced your hands behind my neck, pulling my face down to yours and placing your lips on mine. The kiss started out chaste enough, but I could still taste the coffee you just drank. Your lips were exactly as soft as I imagined, pliant and supple under mine. When they parted and you slid your tongue into my mouth, bold and sure, it sent a shiver of need all the way down my spine.

We broke apart, gasped for breath, and dove back in. I ran my fingers through your hair, marveling at its softness even as I crushed my mouth to yours. I took the skin of your lower lip in between my teeth and teased it with a bite; you rewarded me with a delicious whimper that pierced me like an arrow.

The elevator jerked to a halt as it reached its destination. It took every molecule of control I had to take two steps back from you as the doors swished open again. You smiled at me, pupils a touch wide, and I almost lost my tenuous grip on that control. You left the elevator and I followed.

“You know,” you said, “You’re actually a passable kisser. Much better than I anticipated.”

“Passable?” I said, staring at you, pride bruised, “I haven’t gotten any complaints so far.” Then I saw that tiny smile, the one like you were amused at some private joke, and I realized you were having a go at me.

“Perhaps they’ve been too distracted by your impressive physique to pick up on the subtleties,” you suggested as we continued through a row of cars.

“My physique’s impressive, is it? You been thinking about that too, along with kissing me?” I asked, voice low, grinning.

“No comment,” you said. You took my hand and threaded your gloved fingers through mine. We walked the rest of the way to the car in silence, hand in hand.

Once we were both settled in our seats, you started the car, its engine purring to life and lights winking into existence across the dash. Before long we were out of the parking garage and headed towards my place.

I’ve always loved watching you drive, and that night was no exception. I’ve always found you especially hot when you’re focused on something, and driving naturally requires a good deal of focus. Your hand glided across the steering wheel as you navigated through the streets; I imagined what your hand would feel like across more intimate parts of me and suppressed a shudder at the thought.

Soon, I saw my house in the distance. Our time was dwindling.

“Iggy?” I asked, not wanting the moment to pass. I inhaled, exhaled, tried to force my heart’s erratic pace to even out.

“Yes, Gladio?” you replied, echoing my tone, not taking your eyes off the road.

“Wanna make this official and be my boyfriend?”

You pulled up along the street in front of my house, lips pursed in thought. I wondered if you had changed your mind between the elevator and now, if my kissing really had been subpar, if this whole thing was a Yuletide dream. You shifted the car into park and finally turned to me, regarding me with your astute green eyes.

“That depends,” you said.

“On what?” I asked, a sudden lack of oxygen dizzying me.

“On if you sincerely think you can keep up with me,” you replied, and your words put breath back in my lungs.

“I’d sure as hell like the chance to try.”

You laughed at that, a sound so rare that my heart soared at the sound of it. You leaned over to kiss me on my cheek, quick and light, and that was all the answer I needed.


	2. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Teach me,” I begged, desire scraping the words from my throat in raw, jagged pieces. And what a tutor you were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to fellow writer, Gladnis fan, and new beta [@Xylianna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Xylianna/pseuds/Xylianna) for her thorough attention to this chapter.
> 
> Also, rating has been updated to Explicit and new tags added. Please enjoy!

**2 - Summer**  
_“Summertime is always the best of what might be.” ― Charles Bowden_

The years between when we became an item and when we left for Altissia were some of the best in my life. Despite the threat of war looming, the pressures of being an Amicitia in the Crownsguard, and our shared duty to Noct, the times I shared with you connected together to form a bright constellation of joy.

Of course, as with any relationship, we had our share of challenges. The first obstacle was time. I longed for your company and your conversation more than ever, but obligation whittled our days into slivers. We had known this would be an issue from the start, but I hadn’t expected to suffer from your absence as much as I flourished in your presence.

The second consideration was secrecy. I understood why you had asked for discretion, and to be honest it made my situation easier as well. I couldn’t endure the inevitable haranguing from my father about duty and distraction, you didn’t want King Regis to have a reason to doubt your competency, and neither of us wanted to risk the reaction of our beloved, mercurial prince.

The third challenge was, well, lust. I wanted you so much, more than I think you ever realized back then. At its peak, my need for you sharpened to the red-hot point of a knife. It sliced away all of my thoughts, one by one, leaving only your name and the memory of your skin in between the charred edges of my mind.

I know you echoed at least some of that feeling - you proved as much later - but I was definitely the one pushing the boundaries at first. For example, consider the locker room.

I’ve never had a problem being naked. You’re rolling your eyes as you read this, I’m sure, as would Noct and Prompto if they somehow stumbled upon this account (please, by the Six, just kill me if that happens). Bodies were bodies - I didn’t bother to pay attention to anyone else’s, and I certainly had no hang ups about mine. Part of my job was to be in peak physical condition, and I couldn’t help that I looked damn good doing it.

One day, maybe a month after we made it official, you came and found me for a sparring match. We finished up and went back into the locker room like every other time before, heading to separate showers.

You had beaten me that day, resoundingly. I was standing under the steaming water of the shower trying to ease some of the ache from my muscles. Complicating matters was the fiery sting all along my back; the lines and feathers on my arms and chest were healed, but the outline on my back had been inked mere days ago. I allowed myself a small hiss as I cupped water in my hands and dribbled it over my back, keeping it from being hit by the jet of water directly.

Once I was satisfied, I turned off the shower, dried off enough not to drip water all over the floor, and headed to my locker with the towel draped over my shoulders.

I didn’t normally see you get changed after matches - by design, I realize now - but today you were standing between the bench and the row of lockers that I’d stashed my clothes in. Contorting around my fresh tattoo had meant I had spent more time in the shower; you had almost finished dressing, your clever fingers doing up the buttons of your crisp white shirt.

“That was some hustle out there today, Iggy. What happened? Noct toss another stack of reports in the garbage again?” I asked, shifting my weight back onto one leg. Noct had been volatile lately, lashing out more as King Regis’ health declined.

“If only it were that simple. Sometimes I think... no, _I know_... he acts out in a childish attempt to provoke me. Last night my patience was stretched nearly to-” you said, abruptly choking off mid sentence.

I had been attacking my hair with the towel, trying to tousle it into a semblance of dryness. When you stopped, I lifted my head to look at you.

You stood with your hands frozen on the second highest button of your shirt, mouth shaped into a delicate ‘o.’ The realization that I was completely naked burned into me with a fierce and sudden heat as your eyes trailed down my body. I didn’t miss the fact that they lingered around my hips for several heartbeats longer than the rest of me, definitely didn’t miss the pink that flushed your cheeks. I’m not ashamed to admit I flexed, making sure my muscles were shown to their best advantage.

You’re partially to blame for the size of my ego, you know. In that moment alone, it quadrupled.

“Like what you see? It’s yours, Iggy. All you need to do is say the word,” I said, a smoulder like smoke creeping into my words. The shuddering breath you drew in as you pinched the bridge of your nose sent lines of liquid fire along my inner thighs. I watched as you licked your lips, opened your mouth to say something, closed it again, then spoke.

“I have a meeting in thirteen minutes, and so help me Gladio, if you do not put some clothing on or at _least_ turn around, I will see you reduced to begging before I put my hands or lips on you again,” you said.

I took a step behind you, removing myself from your vision but pressing my body against the length of your back. I encircled you in my arms and did up the last two buttons of your dress shirt for you. As I adjusted your collar, I bent down to put my lips against your ear.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” I whispered.

“It was a threat,” you replied coolly, “But now it’s a promise.”

I laughed, delighted, and planted a quick kiss on the top of your head before withdrawing from you. My clothes were in the bottom locker and, not content to leave well enough alone, I bent over to retrieve them instead of squatting down.

“Gladio,” you rasped. Your voice had disintegrated into a ragged mix between exasperation and desire. I found myself wanting to see what other noises you could make.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll chill,” I said, chuckling.

I pulled on my boxers and trousers, looping my belt through to secure them. When all I had left was to put on my shoes, I took a seat on the bench, bending down to lace up the heavy boots.

I felt your hand on my shoulder, carefully avoiding the fresh lines of my tattoo. I lifted my head, regarding you. Every line of your clothing hung in crisp folds, every strand of hair in place, glasses back on your face. By the Six, I’ll never figure out how you’re always so damn gorgeous. I lifted one of my hands to squeeze the one you rested on my shoulder, and you smiled.

And then you were gone.

* * *

Despite my brazenness, we hadn’t gone to bed together yet. I wanted it, I was pretty sure you wanted it, but a combination of us testing the waters and trying to find the time for it kept it out of reach. That didn’t preclude us from finding new ways of torturing one another.

Ever the strategist, you pinpointed my exhibitionist tendencies early on. Much like your love, your desire unfurls best in private spaces, behind closed doors where there’s no one else to see the erosion of your control. But I found out early on that I enjoyed the added threat of discovery; there’s something about the thrill of hurried hands and stifled gasps and rocking hips, the chase after a release that you want so badly you’d risk exposure to find it.

It wasn’t something I would have expected you to indulge me in, especially not in a place you held practically as sacred as a temple - the library. But you did. Always full of surprises, you are, which is one of the many things I love dearly about you.

Weeks had gone by with us only catching glimpses of one another. I was starving for you, subsisting on a meagre diet of brushed fingertips as we passed in the hallway, of stolen kisses outside of Noct’s apartment after movie nights, of promises sent by text at hours late enough to make me wonder if you ever slept.

I remembered Noct saying you were ‘helping’ him with a research project for school, which meant you were absolutely doing the entire thing for him. My thoughts about plagiarism aside, it gave me the idea to search for you in the Citadel’s library.

I stopped by the library after training, freshly showered and harbouring a mighty need to just _look_ at you for a while. But I didn’t want to seem too needy, either. I spent some time browsing the shelves first before making my way to the seating area, a book I selected at random tucked underneath my arm.

Sure enough, there you were, tucked away at a corner table with a fortress of books, papers, and tablets surrounding you. You tapped a pen against your lips as you regarded a book propped open in your hand, fingers splayed along the back cover.

Yeah, I thought, this would do.

As soon as I got close, your head snapped up, eyebrows drawn low over your face. I suspect if I were a stranger I would have been verbally flayed, but your eyes and mouth softened into a pleased yet quizzical expression when you recognized me.

I sat in the chair beside you, gave your shoulder one too-short squeeze, then opened my book and began to read.

The book I picked was titled _Dearests of Yesterday_. I thought for certain that after the first few pages, I would pretend to read and spend the rest of the time sneaking glances at you. But I found myself drawn into the plot against my will, and soon you were packing up to go. I closed the book, helped you gather your things, and left as well - but not without _Dearests of Yesterday_ in hand.

We carried on for a few more evenings after that. I moved on from historical romance to military strategy, deciding that I’d like to try to learn something besides the exact angle your glasses needed to be at before you pushed them back up your nose, or the way your hand smeared the the neat loops of your handwriting when you wrote too quickly.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, jolting me out of my reverie. When I pulled it out and looked at it, the message was from you.

_I: Gladio, you’re staring. What are you doing here?_

Your phone was on the table face up beside you, your attention ostensibly devoted to the thick tome laying flat on the table. But I saw you struggling to contain a smile, one corner of your lip upturned. I typed out a reply.

_G: Reading. Duh._

When your screen lit up, your eyes grazed across the reply before rolling back into your head.

_I: You haven’t turned a page in 11 minutes. I think you may need to reevaluate your definition of reading._

I coughed once to disguise my laugh, struggling to contain the giddy rush that came naturally when we flirted.

_G: Fine. I’m pining. Wasting away for want of you. Basking in your presence._

Your smile stretched a little wider.

_I: Sounds like your brain rotted along with those romance novels._

I decided to take a different tack.

_G: OK, you got me. I’m so damn horny that I’m basically hard every time I think about you. Looking at your sexy face helps. A little._

I watched as you swallowed, hard, your eyebrows lifting above your glasses as you examined your phone. You didn’t blush, which was a shame, but I had gotten a reaction at least.

_I: I wonder about the contents of said thoughts. Tell me, is the Ignis in your fantasies as eager to have your cock fill his mouth and ass as the one sitting beside you?_

I finished reading your message and my entire brain came screeching to a halt. A meteor could have crashed into Lucis, you could have gotten up and streaked through the Citadel, Noct could have waltzed into the library eating a salad, and I would have remembered exactly none of it. Despite my resolve not to do so, I had gravely underestimated you yet again.

When my central nervous system was functioning again, I typed a reply.

_G: this would work better if you weren’t trying to murder me Iggy_

You were still taking notes during this exchange, perfectly composed, flipping through books in between typing messages. It was driving me wild, and true to my word, I felt myself growing hard under the polished wood of the table.

_I: You look rather alive to me, Gladiolus, although there’s still a distressing lack of reading happening._

_G: i’d be happy to read except there’s no more blood left for my brain._

You finally turned to look at me then. You made eye contact with me, pupils blown wide, and trailed your gaze down the rest of my body, undressing me with your eyes without a single change to your expression. When you reached the tented fabric of my sweats under the table, you calmly turned back to your work and reached for your phone.

_I: I could help you with that, but you’d have to ask very nicely. Perhaps even beg._

And suddenly, I realized, this was my payback for the locker room incident. My pride demanded I leave my phone there, go back to reading, and try very hard to forget every explicit image that flashed through my brain. But I needed you with a ferocity that stripped the sheaths from my nerves, that left me exposed and raw and not a little shameless.

_G: please Ignis i want you so fucking badly_

Finally, you blushed. You brushed your hair out of your eyes before tapping your slim fingers across the screen of your phone with practiced ease.

_I: I’m going to need you to be more specific._

I exhaled. My dick was throbbing now, so hard it ached, and coherent thought was an exercise in determination.

_G: i want to feel your hands on my cock. i want you to stroke me until i cum all over myself even though we’re in the middle of the fucking library, because i can’t deal with how fucking horny i am for you for one more minute_

You leaned back in your chair and ran your thumb along your lower lip thoughtfully. After an agonizing sixty seconds, you replied.

_I: Your vocabulary could use some diversification, but I suppose that will do. A single noise and I will stop immediately. Nod if you understand._

I read your message and felt a spiral of heat pooling in my groin. I nodded. Holy shit, you were actually going to…

The thought cut off when I felt your hand slide across my thigh and snake under the waistband of my sweatpants. When you palmed my cock, began to stroke the base of me in precise, measured motions, I thought I’d break your mandate of silence right away.

The dichotomy was astounding. When I chanced a look in your direction, you looked every bit the prince’s advisor, holding a book up with your thumb propping open the pages. But I noticed that even though your eyes were moving across the page by rote, your gaze was far away, your mind clearly on other things. Things like giving the prince’s shield, who also happened to be your boyfriend, a handjob in a secluded corner of the Citadel’s library.

You hadn’t even brought the full force of your incredible self-control to bear against me, but I felt undone that evening. My cock was slick with precome by the time you wrapped your fingers around it and worked your hand up and down my shaft, keeping the bulk of the motion in your wrist to minimize your arm and shoulder movement. I would have admired the dexterity there if my synapses hadn’t been reduced to ash. Each stroke sent shivers of pleasure through me, my whole body tensed under your touch.

I stared at my own book, trying to keep my features neutral. I bit my lip, decided that lip biting probably looked too suspicious, and chose to ball one hand into a fist under the table. I squeezed hard enough that I could feel pinpricks of pain along my palm. 

You increased the speed of your strokes like you were trying to drag the orgasm out of me, and drag it you did. A familiar rush of heat, a tugging sensation behind my navel, and one precipitous plunge later, I came, hard. The word disappeared into an explosion of stars behind my eyelids. I spilled over your hand, cock pulsing in your fingers. My embarrassment about only lasting a few minutes was counterbalanced by the fact that I hadn’t made a single sound.

I might have imagined it, but I thought you were breathing a little harder, too.

In an act I can only describe as Ignis-like, you reached with your clean hand into the satchel beside you and withdrew a slim package of wet wipes. You wiped your hands casually, as though you’d only thought to do it because they felt a little dirty and not because one of them was covered in my come.

You handed me a wipe without looking at me and I took it. I cleaned up as best I could given the circumstances - I’d need a bathroom and a change of clothes to truly do the job - but I was glad to see I hadn’t soaked through the thick fabric of my sweatpants.

I felt relieved and amazed and awestruck all in one. If I’d had it bad for you before, it was so much worse now.

My phone screen lit up, a notification popping up on the screen.

_I: Feel better? Are you going to let me work now?_

I looked over at you. You were smiling, that small, secret smile you reserved for when you were pleased but you were trying too hard not to show it. I checked to make sure we were still alone in our corner - we were - and leaned over to press my lips against your cheek.

_G: When I can feel my legs again, I’ll get out of your hair._

* * *

Later that night I messaged you again from the comfort of my room.

_G: Today was something else. I can’t wait to return the favor._

You didn’t respond right away. When I checked the clock, I reasoned you were probably still busy at Noct’s. I passed the time playing King’s Knight - cursing Prompto for introducing the stupid game to me at all - until almost midnight before heading to sleep. No sooner than the lights were out, my phone lit up, a blue-white beacon in the darkness.

_I: Neither can I, though I bloody hope it won’t be in the library._

I chuckled to myself as I typed a reply.

_G: Anywhere you want Iggy, just gimmie a time and a place. Feel bad for leaving you high and dry today._

A longer pause than normal. Maybe you’d fallen asleep? But no, the phone flashed again.

_I: I’m managing._

Another message. A picture this time, an image my brain parsed in pieces. A picture of you, of your long, muscular legs spread on silken sheets, of your cock, hard and slick with what must have been lube from base to swollen pink tip, of the fingers that had been wrapped around me in the library now wrapped around yourself.

One more message.

_I: I don’t need to tell you to delete that._

I dropped the phone on my chest. Heat rushed to my cheeks, burning hot as a fever. I covered my face with my hands, trying to still the rapid beating of my heart to no avail. You were merciless. Groaning, I picked up the phone, typing with one hand while the other ran over the rapidly growing bulge in my pajamas.

_G: when i’m done_

* * *

A few tense weeks after that, you caught up with me after a meeting of the Crownsguard. A modest, symbolic ceremony to mark the completion of my tattoo and my official assumption of the Amicitia duty, Father had said. The reality was Jared stuffing me into an all black suit and father parading me in front of King and Council for hours on end. The crown jewel had been a rousing speech about history and duty and how they looked forward to the continuation of the Amicitia line.

The whole situation had made me so uncomfortable that anxiety lodged in my chest. It felt like all my organs had been shoved too close together and were fighting for space.

The sight of you would normally be enough to lift my spirits. That day, however, I was so out of sorts that all I felt was irritation tangling with the anxiety that vibrated along my nerves. I didn’t want you to see me upset as much as I didn’t want to be upset in the first place.

“Iggy,” I said, expecting you to continue on. You stopped and motioned for me to follow you, stepping aside to be clear of foot traffic in the main hallway.

“Are you quite alright, Gladio?” you asked. By the way, I never tell you enough how much I appreciate your constant concern, your unerring devotion to those you love, your skill at smoothing out any source of trouble.

“No. Yes. Ugh, I’m fine,” I said, running a hand back through my hair.

“Gladio,” you said, firmer now, a voice usually reserved for Noct when he was being recalcitrant.

“I don’t really want to talk about it. Not here,” I said, shoving my hands into my pockets.

“For a rarity, I have the remainder of the evening off. You’re welcome to come with me to my apartment, if you’d like. To talk. Or not,” you said quietly, words careful.

“I’m… not sure I’m up for much,” I said.

Despite the wanton stint in the library and all the kisses and touches I hoarded like a miser, I was nervous about being well and truly alone with you. If confessing my feelings had made me worried about screwing things up between us, the many ways in which I could fuck up being alone with you were daunting.

“If you’d rather be alone, I understand,” you said.

“No, _Astrals_ , it’s not that. I dunno. Can’t think straight right now,” I muttered, rubbing at my temples.

Despite the flow of people through the hallway behind us, you reached up and loosened the tie around my neck, fingers undoing the knot in a practiced motion. Your palms lingered for a blazing instant against my chest before falling back to your sides.

“Thought it might be cutting off your circulation,” you said.

I did find it easier to breathe, but I wasn’t sure if it was due to the increased oxygen or to the open sweetness of your gesture.

“You might be right. Wanna get out of here?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” you said.

We left the Citadel together side by side. The evening sun dipped low on the horizon, blanketing the streets in rich tones of red and gold, before disappearing entirely.

Even though my nerves started to hum for a different reason entirely, the act of walking to your apartment began to unsnarl the knot in my chest. I shrugged out of my suit jacket, took off the vest beneath it, and undid half the buttons of the dress shirt as we moved along. The tie hung loose where you had left it. The act of undressing in the street earned a sidelong glance from you.

“Please tell me you’re going to keep some of that on. I’ve no wish to see you arrested for indecent exposure,” you quipped.

“Don’t worry, I won’t lose the shirt. I think. Who even wears suits in this weather?” I asked.

You fixed me with a stare so penetrating that it prickled along the back of my neck. I glanced down at you and noted that you were buttoned into your usual, elegant three piece suit, though you wore it much better than me.

“Sorry, sorry,” I laughed, reaching over and rubbing your back.

“Not all of us can afford to be quite so gauche. And yet, somehow, you still manage to look fantastic,” you said.

“Aww, thanks Iggy. Right back atcha,” I said.

I picked your apartment building out from the other high rises clustered ahead of us. Aside from the manufactured Yuletide date, I’d been to your place a couple of other times for dinner, but always with Noct and Prompto in tow.

You led the way now, touching a keycard to a panel beside the main entrance to open the doors. You called the elevator and we stood in the lobby together as it descended to the ground floor. When I think back to this day, I can’t help but laugh a bit at the picture we must have made: me, holding a pile of shed clothing under my arm and probably looking like I had wandered out of a strip club, and you, styled and polished from head to toe.

The elevator whisked us up to the fifth floor - royal advisors didn’t get penthouse suites like princes did. When you tapped a different card against your door, the lock clicked and you pushed the door open to go inside.

You were fond of using your will to impose order on the chaos in the world - that much hasn’t changed - and your apartment was no exception. Pairs of shoes marched neat lines along your closet floor, books aligned into precise corners on their shelves, and tables and counters were clear of any unnecessary implements. If anything had changed since the last time I was here, I couldn’t see it.

Before I could find a place to put the scrunched bundle of fabric I carried, you turned to me, grabbed the loose tie around my neck, and used it to pull me down into a kiss. Your tongue ran along my lower lip and pressed against it, exploring, and I yielded. Our tongues rolled against each other, hot and urgent; one taste of you was enough to make me moan into the kiss, grabbing at your waist. My lungs burned by the time you let go of my tie and broke away from me, the discarded pieces of my suit now in a heap on the floor.

“My apologies. I’ve been wanting to do that since the Citadel,” you said. A sheen of saliva glistened on your lips and made it very difficult for me to meet your eyes.

“You don’t need to be sorry, Iggy, but another kiss like that and we’re not even gonna make it past the living room,” I murmured.

“Fair enough,” you replied, a small smile teasing your lips.

You opened the closet door, a single empty hanger nestled between a variety of jackets and coats. I wanted to touch you and was going to settle for helping you out of your jacket in as gentlemanly of a fashion as I could manage, but one of the items in the closet caught my eye.

“Aha! There’s one of life’s great mysteries solved. I drove myself crazy looking for this hoodie,” I said, reaching over your shoulder to grab the familiar navy blue sleeve.

You had the grace to blush, at least, which made bringing it up entirely worth it.

“It appears I’ve been caught red handed without so much as a scrap of plausible deniability,” you said. You busied yourself with hanging up your jacket.

“It’s really okay, Iggy, though asking for it would have worked too,” I said, chuckling. “Bet it looks good on you. Bet it looks best on you with nothing underneath.”

“Are you always such an incorrigible flirt?”

“Sometimes,” I replied honestly, “But mostly just with you.”

“Should I be flattered, then?” you asked.

Your gaze had a spark of challenge in it as you worked at undoing your own tie, the knot of silk coming undone with a whisper. Aside from sparring, we hadn’t been this close together in ages; you wore cologne, anise and mint and a spicy note I couldn’t identify, and it made me long to trace your pulse with my mouth until I could bury my nose in the scent.

“Probably. I mean, you’re the one who stole my hoodie like some common thief, so you tell me,” I said, grinning.

You kissed me again, more chaste this time, but I wasn’t complaining.

“I’m going to brew some coffee. Would you like some?” you asked, reverting to traditional Ignis tactics and changing the subject. I decided to let it slide.

“That’d be great, thanks,” I said.

You headed to the kitchen and I followed you, leaning across your breakfast bar while you busied yourself with the coffee and all its accoutrements. With your back to me, I had ample time to enjoy the way your slacks clung to your body, their tightness leaving little to my imagination. I tore my thoughts from that path, worried that if I let myself go down it I would be useless; I focused on your hands instead, watched your elegant fingers sort out cups and open packages and retrieve containers.

“You know,” I began, “I’ve always wondered why you don’t stay in the Citadel. Wouldn’t it be easier?”

“Easier and harder. It would free up a bit more time in a day, certainly. But I appreciate solitude. This apartment provides a measure of it,” you said.

“True enough. You have a tough job, Iggy. Don’t envy you that,” I replied.

I smelled the coffee before I saw you turn with two mugs in hand. The rich, roasted aroma made my mouth water. You proffered one of the mugs and I accepted it with a deep inhale. Once the mug was in my hands, you fixed me with a thoughtful look.

After a pause, you reached over and traced the scar on the left side of my face with a hesitant gentleness, only removing your finger once you’d gone down the length of it.

A loop of sensations cycled through me as you stroked my face: a slice of agony, a crimson splatter of blood on cement, vision washed with red, Noct’s angry shouting, your calm hands, needle poking through flesh over and over, your worried kiss. The memory of pain and the reality of pleasure overlapped under your touch. 

“So do you, Gladio. So do you,” you said, bringing me back to the present.

“I get by,” I said, heart beating faster, wondering if the coffees would become an abandoned pair of gestures on the counter. 

“By the Six, you have no right to those expressive eyes of yours,” you said, leaning against the opposite counter, “And for the record, I have every intention of finishing this coffee, so you may as well settle in.”

I laughed at that. Taking your advice, I perched on one of the bar stools, hands cupped around the steaming drink you’d given me.

“I’ve been told I have nice eyes. And nice lips. And nice abs. And a nice…” You groaned loudly, cutting me off mid-sentence.

“Don’t forget about a nice ego,” you said.

I shifted in my seat, a sudden bout of nerves settling over me like an electric spiderweb. Before I could think too much about it, I spoke again.

“I have a confession, Iggy,” I said.

“And here we haven’t even sinned,” you said coolly, one brow arched over your glasses in question.

“It’s, uh, kinda related to that, actually. I… well, if we want to, you know, take things a step or six further…”

“Hold on for a moment,” you said, straightening, “I want to be absolutely certain I memorize this image. Gladiolus Amicitia, suave playboy of the Crownsguard and confirmed shameless flirt, lost for words.”

A ripple of embarrassment fluttered through me. I rubbed the back of my neck and stood up from the stool, pacing back and forth.

“Shit, c’mon, Iggy, I’m being serious for a sec here,” I said.

Your expression softened, the glitter of merriment in your eyes fading to alert interest. Your lips pursed into a rueful crinkle.

“My apologies, Gladio. Please continue,” you said.

“I’ve never been with a guy before. You’d be the first,” I said, staring at my reflection in the dark mirror of coffee below me.

“Oh,” you murmured. When you didn’t immediately fill the silence, I continued, the words tumbling out before any self-consciousness could stop them.

“I mean, I’m not stupid. I know how to look up stuff on the internet and I am the proud owner of my very own dick, so I have at least some of the pieces down. But I have the feeling this is not your first chocobo race, no offense meant at all, I think it’s sexy as hell actually, and you’re sexy as hell, and the last thing I wanna do is be a disappointment to you. Or worse, make you think I’m some sort of big shot in the sack when really I have no idea how I’ll be-”

“Gladio. _Gladio._ ”

I dragged my attention from the mug to you, hardly daring to meet your eyes.

You placed your coffee down on the counter behind you. Once both hands were free, you took your glasses off as well, folding them and setting them down next to the coffee. You walked over to my side of the counter until you were standing right in front of me, face upturned towards me. There was definitely an amused twist to your smile, but there was also concern and tenderness mixed in.

 _Gods_ , you were so gorgeous. As gorgeous as I was lucky. _Am_ lucky.

“Contrary to what you may believe,” you started, your hands feeling for the last two buttons on my shirt and undoing them while you spoke, “I didn’t agree to be with you because of any presumed prowess in the bedroom. I am with you because you’re a dear friend whose company I enjoy. The fact that you are painfully attractive happens to be a bonus.”

A flush crept up my neck at your words. Once you’d finished unbuttoning my shirt, you stood on your tiptoes, your mouth so close to mine that I could feel your breath when you continued.

“However, if I’m being perfectly honest about my feelings right now, I want you to fuck me until the only name I can recall is yours. If you’d like to learn how to accomplish that, all you need do is ask,” you murmured before crushing your mouth against mine.

Any restraint or shyness on my part was obliterated by your touch. I moaned long and loud into the kiss, not caring that our mouths were slightly off centre. All I could taste was you as your tongue found mine, wet and insistent, rolling in my mouth. My hands gripped your lower back and pulled you closer to me, making fists in the fabric of your shirt.

We parted for air. I met your half-lidded eyes, a dark and penetrating stare in their depths that ignited my blood.

“Teach me,” I begged, desire scraping the words from my throat in raw, jagged pieces.

And what a tutor you were.

You led (dragged) me to the bedroom by a hand, the other working to unbutton your shirt. I’d already tossed mine aside somewhere en route to your bedroom. In other circumstances I’d be very curious as to the contents of said room, but a red mist of lust crowded out every other thought in my head.

“If these clothes don’t come off soon, they’re gonna get torn off,” I growled, finding your neck with my mouth and sucking on the skin just below your jaw. My hands fumbled at your belt, pulling it off and out of the loops with one hard yank.

“You’d better not,” you hissed, but I noticed you worked faster to unbutton your shirt.

I managed to get your slacks undone and shoved them towards the floor. They formed a dark puddle around your ankles and you stepped out of them and back towards the wall. I used the momentum to step with you and pin you against the wall, bending down to nip at the juncture where your neck met shoulder. I could feel the length of you pressed against my thigh, the outline of your cock bulging against your black boxer briefs.

You grabbed my belt hard enough that I lurched forward, my head knocking against the wall with a dull thud. The pain was minor and so very far away in this moment.

“Sorry,” you said, voice tight, achieving your goal and pulling my belt free of my slacks.

“S’ok,” I murmured. I ran my tongue along your collarbone until I reached the hollow of your throat, pressing my lips against the indent there. You finally got my own pants undone and pushed them down as well. We ground our hips together, rutting against the wall, and the feel of your cock underneath your briefs only made me want more.

“Under normal circumstances,” you started, gasping as I reached behind you to grab your ass, “I’d try to take this more slowly, but I don’t know if I can today. I want you so much I can hardly stand it.”

I felt a twinge in my groin at your words, more and more heat building there each time your hips rolled into mine. Slow, I thought, slow was not an option tonight. Slow was for dances and death, and this furious build of want and need between us was neither.

“Just tell me what I need to do,” I rumbled.

“Get us on the bed, for starters,” you said. Your skin was flushed, your green eyes hazy with desire. It was the most disheveled I’ve ever seen you and it drove me crazy.

I squatted and wrapped an arm around the outside of each of your legs. When I stood, you came with me, legs twined around my waist. As I crossed the room with you, you grabbed the back of my head with a hand and drew me to your mouth, kissing me with an abandon I never thought I’d feel from you.

When we reached the bed, I climbed up onto it, knees first, and lowered you none too gently to the mattress. Before anything else, I reached for your briefs and tugged them down, dazed by the sight of your swollen cock exposed beneath me. There was a rip as I yanked them down your thighs and calves, tossing them aside.

“Gladio,” you chided, glaring at me.

“Sorry, sorry,” I said. Getting out of my own boxers was an exercise in awkward maneuvering, but I was eventually successful. Once I was naked, I shoved your thighs apart to lay my body along yours. You made the most delectable keening noise in the back of your throat as our cocks rubbed against each other, and I rocked my hips deliberately to hear you make it again.

You pointed a hand to the bedside dresser, the motion imperious despite your tousled hair and parted lips. 

“Lube and condoms there. Get both,” you commanded.

I sat up and stretched out towards the drawer, opening it and finding both items easily. I could feel your eyes on me as I retrieved the objects, devouring me from top to bottom and back again.

“I’m going to need some preparation first, I believe, before I can take you inside of me. I can provide an explanation, if you require,” you said, a bit breathlessly, your pupils wide enough that they were starting to edge out the green. The calm precision in your words was very much at odds with the explicit images that flashed like photos in my mind. 

“I, _fuck_ , Iggy, no, I get how that works, at least,” I murmured, feeling suddenly dizzy at the prospect. Before I had time to feel awkward about it, I grabbed the lube and spread a very generous amount across my hand; some of it drizzled across the sheets, which I was sure I’d hear about later.

I couldn’t resist running my hand along your cock on the way, giving it one long downward stroke. I watched a shudder run through your body at the touch.

“As much as I enjoy your hands on me, this may be easier if I’m on my stomach, at least at first,” you said. I hummed an agreement and watched as you flipped over onto your stomach, your thighs parted slightly. I ached all over at the sight of you, at the creamy canvas of your skin, at the lean muscle of your torso and legs, at your toes curled in anticipation.

Have you ever caught yourself in the act of marveling at how beautiful something is? The soaring feeling in your chest, the easing of your cares for a fraction of time, the intense longing to keep looking at it for _one more second, please_ because you don’t want the feeling to end. That same feeling drives people to create, artists to draw and writers to write and musicians to compose, to try and express it in some way that can be preserved and experienced over and over again.

I felt all of that and more when I looked at you that night.

“ _Fuck_ , how are you even this magnificent,” I breathed.

“Gladio,” you purred, “Focus.”

“Riiiight,” I agreed. I finally brought myself to run my slick fingers along the cleft in your ass, strangling a groan as I found the tight ring of your entrance. I teased a fingertip back and forth across it, a haze equal parts lust and awe descending upon me at the sensation.

“ _Gladio_ ,” you said again, my name coming out somewhere between whine and growl.

Very slowly, I eased one finger in, feeling my cock twitch at the searing tightness of the smooth muscle clamping around my finger. You gasped when it was all the way inside - the gasps turned into soft moans when I began to work it in and out of you. I didn’t want to hurt you, so I kept the motions as careful as I could, blood roaring in my ears.

Who was this Ignis stretched out beneath me, gasping through parted lips, bucking his hips off the bed against my fingers working inside him? It was this moment that I fell in love with seeing you lose control. I am addicted to unmaking you, to chipping at the wall of your self control until you’re reduced to nothing but rubble and need. 

“Another, please,” you whimpered, and I obliged you, sliding a second finger in to join the first. By now I was painfully hard, small drops leaking from my engorged cock to fall on the sheets below me. With your whimpers and moans of encouragement, I moved my fingers a bit faster, imagining how this would feel on my dick instead.

Your hands fisted into the sheets as I fingered you, committing the image of you writhing on the bed to memory. When I withdrew my fingers to add more lube, your frustrated moan was muffed by the nearby pillow.

“A third?” I asked, voice husky, wanting to make sure you were ready.

“ _Yes_ ,” you pleaded.

I pushed the first two fingers back inside you, scissoring them a bit, then added a third. I plunged my fingers as deep as they would go, relishing your pants each time I did, the light sheen of sweat that glistened on your skin. My nerves blazed with desire, sharp and electric, my own skin feverish with need. How were you so hot, so tight? That night I was coming undone at the seams as surely as you were.

“I’m ready,” you said, and I reluctantly withdrew my fingers from you. You turned over to lay on your back, propping yourself up on quivering arms, breathing hard. Your cock strained towards your taut stomach, pink and swollen.

“I’d love to ride your gorgeous cock until I come. Is that okay?” you asked, biting your lower lip.

A bolt of lightning shot straight down my spine and curled low in my belly at your words. Even if I’d been capable of clear thought, I wouldn’t have been able to reconcile those words coming from the mouth of my stoic, calm, proper boyfriend.

“Yes, _hell_ yes. Is that even a question?” I moaned, screwing my eyes shut against the tide of desire that rose in me.

“Then get on your back,” you said, heat suffusing your voice, and _oh_ , there was the ember I saw in you so long ago, roaring to life. You rose to your hands and knees, crawling over to grab the items I’d retrieved earlier.

What could I do but oblige? I laid down on the bed, my height making it so I barely fit along it. You tore open the foil packet and moved next to me, rolling the condom over me with one smooth motion. I was wound up so tightly that when you poured lube into your hand and stroked my cock several times to coat it, I thought I may come then and there.

You swung one of your legs over mine, stradling my thighs. Nothing in the world could have prepared me for the sight of you taking my dick, lining it up with your entrance, and sinking down onto the entire length of me all at once. You were so unbearably tight that all I could do was throw my head back and moan, lost in the sensation of heat gripping my cock from all sides.

Then you began to ride me in earnest, and I was well and truly lost in you.

I thought, perhaps naively, that I’d never be able to feel more hunger for you than I did while watching you pleasure yourself on my body. But then your eyes locked with mine. You sank down onto me once more with deliberate slowness, taking me into you inch by inch, holding my gaze the whole way down, and I was proven wrong. I could live on that memory for the rest of my days.

You put your newfound stamina to good use that night. Each time you sank back onto me you gave a soft cry, head tilted back and hair in disarray. It was all I could do to grab onto your ass, slamming you down onto me each time you rocked your hips back, needing to be deeper despite being bottomed out. I watched the muscles in your thighs and stomach work as you rode me faster, gripping my shoulders for support.

As our skin grew slick with sweat and our moans louder, I had enough foresight to wrap my still coated hand around your cock, stroking you as you rode me.

“Gladio,” you keened, “Yes, that, _please._ ”

Once, twice, three more times you filled yourself with me before shuddering and crying out, your eyes shut tight. I felt your muscles clench around me, impossibly tight, your come spilling over my hand and belly and chest as you rode out your orgasm to completion. The sight alone combined with those last few rocks of your body was enough to drive me over the edge as well. I gave myself over to the inferno I’d been fighting and let it consume me.

“ _Ignis_ ,” I rumbled, holding you down on my cock as I emptied myself inside of you, straining my hips upward in one last, desperate thrust.

A few moments passed, both of us panting for breath. I thought when you lifted yourself off of me that you’d go to clean up, but I was surprised and thrilled when you laid on your side next to me, head resting on my shoulder. I’d been longing to hold you like that, skin to skin, and I never wanted to let you go again.

Call me foolish, but even then you held a piece of me that I could never take back, that I could only borrow with you curled up next to me.

“Hey, Iggy,” I said, running a hand up and down your back.

“Yes?” you asked.

“How soon can we do that again, do you think?”

* * *

The answer, as it turns out, was very soon.

By the time we made it to the bathroom to wash, we were both stirring again. Trying to fit two men over six feet tall in your shower was an exercise in patience, laughter and flexibility. I hadn’t realized how big a leap it was for you to even consider letting me shower with you, let alone allow it outright, but I was thrilled to be near you all the same.

There was a valiant attempt to focus on bathing as opposed to sex - mostly on your part - but you stopped arguing with me when I sank down to my knees and took your cock in my mouth.

What I lacked in experience I made up for in enthusiasm. When you buried your fingers in my hair, cried my name, and came, I swallowed every last drop of your release, relishing the taste of you.

You had a devious glint in your green eyes as you returned the favor. I didn’t know then how good you were at oral, but I found out _very_ quickly, shattering beneath the combination of your tongue and hands in minutes despite already going a round.

Soaps and shampoos applied and hot water running low, we got out of the shower and dried off. You shrugged into a bathrobe (no, I wasn’t surprised that you just had one ready) and I lounged with a dry towel around my waist.

“Thank the Six the apartment’s not huge, or I’d be looking for my clothes for the rest of the year. Pretty sure I can’t catch the train naked,” I said, looking over my shoulder and smiling at you.

I thought you would be smiling back, but your face had folded into serious lines.

“You’re free to decline, but I would like to extend an invitation to spend the night,” you said, all formality. A bit of nerves there, too.

I counted seven heartbeats while I considered, my pulse banging out a raucous melody in my throat and ears.

“‘Course, Iggy. I’d love to.”

Between a pair of your pajama pants - at least four inches too short and extremely tight around my quads - and my hoodie, I stayed decent enough not to distract you. You had work to do, as always. Your small desk was wedged against the couch, so I was content to sit next to you while you worked, reading a book I borrowed from your stash.

As great as the sex has always been, as much as I cherished the chance to worship you in every way I could imagine, it was the quiet moments spent in your presence that kept me going. I did manage to read some, but my eyes kept drifting to you, watching your fingers dance across tablet screens or your right foot tapping when you were deep in thought.

I felt tired a bit earlier than normal, which didn’t surprise me given the day’s events. I’m no Noct, but I do enjoy my sleep. I returned the book to its shelf and paused behind you, taking your shoulders in my hands and rubbing them. Tension had already found its way back into them. I worked at the stiffness with my hands for several minutes, plying my thumbs against the muscle there. My reward was a soft, breathy sigh from you as the tension eased.

You tilted your head back from your seat in the chair, looking up at me. Your hair, clean and unstyled, was feathery soft as I ran my fingers through it once.

“Don’t wait up on my account,” you said.

I bent down and grazed a kiss along your lips, the upside-down angle making it hard to do much beyond that, but it was enough.

“Oh, I won’t. But don’t be shy about waking me if I hog the bed,” I replied.

Never one to be particular about my sleeping arrangements, I was out in a blink after I sprawled out under the covers of your bed.

I was trained to be a light sleeper, so the next thing I remember is you climbing into bed next to me. I cracked one bleary eye to read the clock on the nightstand - 00:28.

Instinctively, I reached out and brought you closer to me, fitting your body along the length of mine, relishing in your warmth. You tensed in my grip and then relaxed, murmuring words under your breath that I couldn’t hear over the rustling of blankets. It was probably nothing, but I find myself going back to that moment when my thoughts are idle, wondering what you said. But I was too drowsy and content to ask, so I’ll never know.

My lips found the back of your neck in the darkness. I pressed a kiss there, the clean citrus scent of your shampoo filling my lungs as I inhaled.

I wanted to tell you at that moment that I loved you. I was already sure that it was true. The easy, free way I felt around you spoke as loudly as the chemistry we had just so thoroughly demonstrated. But I didn’t want you to frighten you off, didn’t want to breach the trust you had so generously shown me.

I settled for mouthing a mantra against your skin, _I love you I love you I love you_ , praying all the while that you felt the same.

* * *

You know what they say about the best laid plans.

Both of us were caught up in our duties again, our already limited time squeezed into even more narrow margins. I spent the night at your place a handful of times over the summer, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. The combination of mounting stress, frustration and, well, horniness were a deadly combination.

It was my fault that it boiled over that night, my fault that discretion got thrown completely out the window. I laugh when I think about this part now, but back then I learned a new dimension to the word embarrassment.

I’d come over to Noct’s for dinner, practically chafing with eagerness at the chance to see you. And I made that eagerness known in more ways than one.

It started out tame. A lingering hand on your shoulder, a palm resting for a touch too long on the small of your back, a brush of lips against your cheeks while you were cooking when Noct and Prompto weren’t looking.

While we ate, I upped the ante. I ran a socked foot up your calf. When it hit your thigh, you actually dropped your fork, murmuring an apology. You fixed me with a stern glare and I backed off… for the time being.

To be fair, I did keep my hands to myself for the rest of the evening. In the apartment, at least.

Noct settled into studying for a change, Prompto headed back to his place, and I helped you clean up. Once you were satisfied that all was in order, you turned to Noct.

“Unless you require anything else, I’m off for the evening,” you said.

“I’m good. Later, Specs,” Noct said, already resting his head on an arm slung over the table.

“Please remember you have a brunch appointment with King Regis tomorrow and need to be up earlier as a result,” you said, but strangely, your eyes were on me as you said it.

“Yeah,” Noct replied.

No sooner than we were out of the apartment with the door locked behind us, you whirled on me with a gleam in your eye. Before I could register what you were doing, you pinned me to the wall opposite Noct’s door, lips by my ear.

“Gladio, I love you dearly, but you _cannot_ tease me like that in public. Especially not in front of Noct. Not if we’re trying to keep this quiet,” you breathed against my skin, words taut.

Did… did you actually just say you loved me? Did you imply that I could tease you in public if we _weren’t_ trying to keep this quiet? Had I pissed you off? Too many questions and not enough time to ask them all.

I settled on the most pressing question. I met your sylvan eyes, trying not to get too lost in them, and grinned.

“You know, I’m not surprised that the first time you tell me you love me is followed by a lecture,” I said, wrapping my arms around your waist.

“Is it truly the first time?” you asked, expression softening around the edges. “I think it all the time. Perhaps I have failed to say it out loud…”

This made me laugh in earnest.

“Oh, Iggy. Never change,” I said. And then I kissed you.

Maybe if we hadn’t kissed, it would have been fine. Or, who knows, maybe it was the gods playing yet another joke on us. We kissed, your hands finding my shoulders and gripping them through my t-shirt, our tongues tracing lazy circles around each other as you pressed me against the wall. Blood started to roar in my ears, a telltale sign of desire.

That was, until I heard Noct.

“Ummmmm…”

We shot apart as fast as we could manage, which was very fucking quickly. Noct stood, midnight blue eyes wide, holding out a satchel that I recognized as yours. My face and neck felt like someone had lit them on fire, shame coiled low in my gut.

“You, um, forgot this,” Noct said, waving the satchel at you. You stepped forward and took it, the only hint at your embarrassment the deep red flush to your cheeks.

“Thank you, Noctis,” you said. Too formal, way too formal, the only other outward tell that your composure had been damaged.

The three of us stood in the most awkward silence of my life to date. I was so embarrassed that the shame was turning into nausea. You and I didn’t look at each other, too afraid to find the echo of discomfiture.

I don’t know what I expected to happen, but it certainly wasn’t to see Noct’s shoulders shaking. It wasn’t to find him, upon closer examination, laughing at the two of us, one hand covering his mouth.

“You should see the looks on your faces. So worth it, even if it means I owe Prom a night at the arcade,” the prince said between bouts of laughter.

“I don’t follow.”

“What does that even mean?”

You and I spoke at the same time, finally looking at each other, both confused.

“You guys don’t really do a good job hiding it. Prom has a bunch of pictures he calls… well, I don’t remember, but the point is it’s just a bunch of pics of you guys making eyes at each other.”

“He has _what_?” I demanded. I hadn’t thought it possible, but I was somehow relieved and more embarrassed at the same time.

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I assume you have no qualms about this arrangement, then?” you asked Noct.

“Nah. Just like. Maybe get a room next time,” Noct said, a smirk pasted on his face.

I had more questions, but you took my arm, your grip gentle but firm.

“Perhaps that’s enough excitement for one evening,” you suggested, tone clipped. I nodded in agreement.

When the royal advisor and tactician advises you to make a graceful exit, you make it.

“Night, Noct,” I muttered, letting you lead me away.

We made the way to your car in silence. I suspect both of us were coming down from the flood of emotions from being caught making out like teenagers in front of our charge. Once we were in the car and driving, you broke the silence.

“So,” you began.

“So,” I replied.

“That was a rather enlightening experience,” you observed. I had expected tension, annoyance, maybe even anger. But instead I heard relief.

“To think those little shits knew this whole time…” I said. I turned to face you and saw a smile playing out across your lips.

“Somewhat embarrassing, I suppose. But…” you paused, considering, “Now that Noct knows, perhaps we can relax the secrecy somewhat.”

“You mean it?” I asked, barely daring to hope.

“If even Noct and Prompto noticed, I assume others have as well. A problem for another day at this juncture.”

“Yeah, that’s a fair point,” I admitted. I reached over to squeeze your thigh. The words came out before I knew I was going to say them. “I’ll try and keep the hormones a bit more in check, but… I love you, Iggy, and I don’t like hiding it. I’m so damn proud and happy to be with you that I want to tell anyone who will listen.”

“While I’m profoundly glad to hear it, let’s hold off on any public declarations for now,” you replied, trying and failing to suppress a grin. 

“What? No announcements at the next Council meeting? I’m sure I could drop by and we could give the geezers a show,” I replied, grinning from ear to ear.

“You are truly a beast,” you said. But you took my hand from your thigh and brought it to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to the side of it before letting go.

We drove for a bit in silence. Overcome with giddiness, I turned to you again, batting my eyelashes even though your eyes were on the road.

“But, really, I’d like to hear about how you love me again. And how much you love me. Maybe some specifics? You always tell me that details are important.”

You laughed, high and bright. “Why don’t I show you instead?”

We made it to your apartment, but not to the bedroom. You showed me with your body and told me with your words as you came undone on your own kitchen table, _oh, fuck, Gladio, there_ and _I love you_ and _please don’t stop_ a litany I’ve never tired of hearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.
> 
> Part 3 should be up within the week. Warning: there will be feelings. So many feelings.


	3. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Noct disappeared into the crystal, when he left us behind to await his return, he took a piece of each of us with him. But oh, dearest, he took the biggest piece from you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to [@Xylianna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Xylianna) for her beta attentions. No where else could I find equal amounts of kindness, constructive suggestions, and keyboard mashing.
> 
>  **WARNING:** Episode Ignis spoilers contained below.

**3 - Fall**  
_fall; n. an act of falling or collapsing; a sudden uncontrollable descent._

Routine, as you know, can only last so long. To live is to change - I’ve never deluded myself on that point. But I often wonder how nice it would have been if our lives could have changed gradually, a slow shifting of the earth underfoot instead of a tidal wave overhead. I wonder about the Gladio and Ignis that may have lived out that other life, if their path would have been strewn with as much hardship and heartbreak as ours was.

We had a long, marvelous, wonderful two years together before reality slipped between the cracks with its ugly demands.

Insomnia, the place all of us had called home, fell.

We found out that fateful night at Galdin Quay. It felt almost obscene to be spending the night in a plush resort after I knew our city burned.

So many dead. So many gone. Civilians. A majority of the Glaive. Most of the Crownsguard as well. King Regis. My father. So many orphans created that night, myself and Noct included.

Noct and Prompto were still asleep when the alerts started coming through. You and I went out on the balcony overlooking the ocean, the blood red sunrise glittering across the water. I stared at my phone, scrolling through news report after news report. Although the minor details differed, the stories were too similar for it to be a coincidence.

“Damn it…” I swore, disbelief making my voice a whisper. And then, a little stronger, “ _Fuck_!” I beat my fist against the railing twice for good measure, the pain giving me a point to focus on.

“Gladio… I’m so sorry,” you said, one cautious hand on my shoulder. I knew you were already calculating what this meant for our plans, if this changed the end goal of getting Noct to Altissia, estimating the increased numbers of imperial troops.

I said nothing. I felt nothing. I felt everything.

I’d been raised with the Amicitia duty in my blood. The knowledge that my father was probably going to die far before natural causes had the chance to kill him was a fact I lived with. But the concreteness of seeing that knowledge plastered all over news feeds, shrilling on TVs, scrolling on bright red ticker tapes… it was a lot to take in, all at once.

Noct was now king. And I was the king’s Shield.

Tears started to fall before I could stop them, hot and fierce. My father had done his duty, completed the task set out for him and his father before him and his father before that. I should have been proud, and I was. But he was still my father, and he was still gone.

You held me as my shoulders shook, until the sobs receded into hiccups and then into normal breathing. I shoved the emotions somewhere deep inside me, buried them to exhume later when our task was done.

“So,” I said, focused on the matter at hand, “How are we gonna tell Noct?”

* * *

Messily, as it turns out. Everything was so Gods damned messy after that.

We managed, though. Barely. Our small, scrappy Lucian family made our way around the country, each tiny step towards our goal a victory to celebrate.

We camped under stars, hunkered down in shitty motels, and kept on fighting. Always fighting. Never giving up, which was nothing to scoff at given the circumstances. We loved one another and fought with one another. We faced the Astrals with one another and raided the tombs of long dead kings with one another. We rode in cars and on chocobos and walked when there was nothing to ride. We tried our very best, which was all any of us could do.

And you and I, well... we loved each other, until we didn’t. Until everything fell to fucking pieces.

* * *

Altissia.

This word and the memories it evoked spread between us like a stain, a cancer left unchecked, consuming us from the outside in. I think if we had talked about it back then, vented the poison instead of letting it fester, we could have saved ourselves a lot of pain. But I was too angry, and you were too lost, and we were both too heartbroken to consider saving ourselves first.

When Prompto and I lost contact with you during the siege of Altissia, I assumed all my worst fears had come to pass. The idea that one or both of us would die on the journey had been exchanged so much between us that I thought I was numb to the concept.

I was very, _very_ wrong. 

I didn’t shed any tears, not then, didn’t waver for a moment as the legions of imperial soldiers assailed us. Instead, I opened my heart and body to the roaring anger of grief, a grief so immense and vast that I felt the universe itself wouldn’t be able to contain it. My rage fueled me, kept me swinging my sword at anything in my path as though the destruction would ease the pain. As if it would bring you back.

My rage only intensified when I found Noct with Ravus. My fury blinded me; I’m ashamed to admit that in that moment, I didn’t know if Noct was dead or alive, and I didn’t care. My only thought he was in the hands of the enemy and I nearly mowed down Ravus where he stood. The Oracle’s brother parried my blade with his own, frustration evident in his pale features.

“Get your hands off Noct,” I growled, lightning sparking from Ravus’s sword and flame from mine.

“I’m trying to help!” Ravus hissed through gritted teeth.

“Like hell you are!” I cried, bearing down with all the strength I had left. Ravus, frustrated and hurting, shoved me off of him with an explosion of purple lightning. I went flying across the remains of the altar, the pain of my battered body nothing compared to the turmoil tearing me apart.

“Gladio…”

Noct’s voice was as thin and exhausted as I had ever heard it, but it was still enough to sweep the haze of my fury away. I staggered to my feet, lurching towards our charge.

Prompto beat me there, offering Noct a shoulder, his hands feeling across Noct’s body for signs of injury. I stood, panting, clinging the rage that threatened to bleed away. I knew if I let go of the anger, I would have to face the daemons underneath it, and that would take a strength I didn’t know if I’d ever have.

I stared at Ravus.

“Where’s Iggy?” I asked. His lips twisted in disgust, his eyes scanning the horizon.

“Gone. He went with Ardyn. To Gralea,” Ravus replied, each word like a pulled tooth.

You were _alive_. There was still a chance. Looking back, I wish I would have gone on thinking you had died, because then maybe I could have held tight to my anger. And maybe my anger would have shielded me from the pain that was to come. But it didn’t. Rage faded to desperate, hungry worry.

“We’ve gotta go after him,” Noct said from Prompto’s side. 

“I agree. And as I said, I’m trying to help,” Ravus replied.

As though on command, an imperial warship descended to the altar, its hangar stretching open like the jaw of a mechanical beast. It hovered over the water, its thrusters sending huge ripples of wake outward in concentric circles.

We were out of options. We were running out of time. The only thing left to do was put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.

“Let’s go,” I said, and the four of us boarded the ship.

* * *

I knew that we flew to Gralea, but I couldn’t tell you a single thing about the flight. My memories of how we got to Zegnautus Keep, as well as our ascent through it are full of holes, holes burned by the memory of the moment we found you.

Blue. I hate the colour blue now, and I think it’s because the whole chamber was bathed in the blue light of the crystal when I saw your body

Noct warped ahead, crying out your name. Even from my vantage point, I could see your skin charred beyond recognition, cracking like magma pushing through volcanic rock, and I knew. Knew what you had done.

You’d harnessed the power of the ring. You’d done it, knowing full well it would kill you.

I rushed to your side, tried to call your name, felt it curl up and die in my throat. The tears came then, hot and wild as my heart shattered into fragments too small to ever put back together. I looked into your face, saw your burnt out eyes, the features of the man I loved obliterated by the magic of kings.

“Noct? But… how?” you choked out.

“Ravus,” Prompto said, “He lent us a hand, if you can believe it.”

“What the hell were you thinking?!” I shouted, anger and sorrow slurring my voice. To think that those could have been my last words to you.

“How could _I_ let this happen? This is all my fault. If I’m really some kind of savior, then why can’t I save the ones I love?” Noct said, cradling your body. He paused and took a shaky breath before continuing.

I was frozen to the spot, staring at your broken body. You were dying. You were _dying_ , right in front of me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. And on top of that, Noct’s and Prompto’s grief battered against me too, our bond too deep for me to ignore their pain. I thought seen enough of loss to know the shape of it, but this was an endless, consuming abyss compared to the losses I’d suffered before.

I wanted to speak, wanted to tell you that I loved you, wanted to say some kind of goodbye even if it were half-assed, but my words failed me as surely as I failed you.

“I’m sorry. You guys have stayed with me this whole time… and all it’s done is cause you pain,” Noct continued. He took the ring gently from your ashen finger, cradled your body, and cried out to the crystal for strength. Implored it to save us. Save _you_.

How many miracles does one person get to witness in their lifetime? For my part, I’ve seen two, and this was the first of them. I watched as white-blue streams of light floated towards you like dandelions in the wind, caressing your skin with their magic. Your wounds faded away, the crystal healing the damage it had caused to your ruined body. When you took your first real, deep breath, so did I.

Noct met my eyes and handed me your body, shifting you so that you were in my arms now. The mandate in his eyes was as clear as if he had spoken.

_Take care of him._

I nodded at you. In my heart, I promised.

And then Noct warped across the chasm to stand beside the crystal. He looked back exactly once, met your eyes. You exchanged nods, a physical ellipses of all the words you couldn’t say.

One brilliant flash of light; it felt like more should have happened, but that was it. Then Noct, our treasured, beloved, and chosen king was gone.

When Noct disappeared into the crystal, when he left us behind to await his return, he took a piece of each of us with him. But oh, dearest, he took the biggest piece from you.

* * *

The weeks you spent recovering stretched out impossibly long, echoing the nights that kept getting longer and longer. The crystal may have healed the worst of your injuries, but your flesh was still mortal, and mortal bodies were not meant to endure that kind of punishment.

I’ve dreaded coming to this part of our story, but all parts of this story are important, even the ones that hurt so badly to look at.

For the first part of your recovery, my astonishment that you were alive was enough to hold any darker doubts at bay. Every time your eyes fluttered open, every time you took a sip of broth, every time you stirred enough for me to help bathe you was like an aftershock of the miracle that brought you back to us. The first time you sat bolt upright in the back of the car and shrieked because of Prompto’s driving, I actually laughed.

But with Noct gone and us holed up from room to room, trying to make it back to Lestallum so we could regroup while dodging daemons and taking care of you, tempers frayed at the edges. My doubts begin to unravel into an ugly tapestry, one that wove a tale comprised of a single truth: you used the Ring of the Lucii knowing it would kill you.

I thought the rage of my grief had burned away my temper - I hadn’t felt so much as a flicker of anger in weeks. But as I rolled that truth over and over in my mind, I felt my anger stirring too, a comfortable and familiar crutch. Your love for Noct and capacity for self-sacrifice had always been two separate entities in my mind, but while you recovered, those entities began to blur.

And then those two concepts clicked together like the loading of a gun. You loved Noct so much that you tried to kill yourself for him, even though I was still alive, even though we had the possibility of a future together.

Where, I wondered, did that leave me?

I don’t usually consider myself an idealist, but my expectation had been it would be all of us or none of us that lost our lives for Noct. The fact that you didn’t want to live in a world without him so much that you would sacrifice your own life, would leave me and Prompto and the whole damn world behind… that _hurt_. I knew that if love was a thing that could be quantified, if it could be measured and recorded in a neat column like you preferred, you loved Noct the most of all of us.

I just didn’t expect to have such demonstrable, undeniable proof of that fact.

I couldn’t admit it to myself then, but I was feeling lost as well. Despite being told since I was a child that I was expected to give my life for him, I had grown to love Noct too. He was my king and I his Shield - but with no king, I began to question my purpose right down to its very foundation.

And of course, there was anger too, a low and seething rage curled in my gut no matter what I did. After everything we had done for Noct, here we were, left behind. Cleaning up his mess.

Like always.

Things finally came to a head when we reached Lestallum. Despite your physical recovery, we barely touched, chaste brushes of lips or a lingering hand the most that passed between us. We slept in separate beds and spent most of the days apart, withdrawing into our grief.

Prompto had joined a convoy going to Hammerhead. Officially, he said he wanted to help out Cid and Cindy, but I thought even then that the tension between us had pushed him away too.

And that left two of us.

You came back to our shared room after an evening of canvassing, rallying the populace to prepare for the onset of the daemons. You looked thin, stretched out; I could see bones protruding from your wrists, the lines of your collarbone harsh and angular under your shirt, and I realized you hadn’t been eating right. Even your fondness for cooking had disappeared with Noct. The pair of us lived on whatever we could scrounge up hunting or at restaurants when they were supplied.

The sight of you should have worried me, but I wasn’t thinking straight back then, and all I felt was a dull burn of enmity. If you couldn’t end it by a magical ring, I guessed that working yourself to death would be just as good to you.

“Iggy,” I said, “We need to talk.” Already the anger roiled beneath the surface of my skin, thick and syrupy.

“What is it you wish to discuss?” you asked me. So calm. So distant.

“How long are we gonna keep going on like this?” I replied.

“Going on like what, Gladio?” you asked. Your paused to brush your hair out of your eyes, not bothering to style it recently.

“I ain’t in the mood to beat around the bush,” I said, voice heating, “What are we even doing here? What’s the point?”

“I’m going to need you to be more specific,” you said. You had said these exact words to me so many times before, their tone flirtatious or pragmatic or inquisitive. But all I heard now was exhaustion tinged with bitterness.

How did I not see it then? How did I not see that what I should have done was grieve with you, open up, try to cobble our broken hearts together as best as we knew how?

How did I not realize how far down your own grief had dragged you? You had spiralled so far down into despair that you had reached the bottom, had nowhere further down to go. And instead of lifting you up, instead of supporting you like you needed, I opened up the pit underneath your feet and watched you fall, fall, fall.

“Why did you do it, Iggy? _Why_?” I asked, voice ragged.

You regarded me with a gaze I hadn’t seen since those early days in the Citadel, cool and analytical. You knew what I referred to.

“At the time, it seemed like the best course of action,” you said.

“Bullshit,” I replied, pacing back and forth now. “You didn’t even think of me? Of Prompto? Of anyone else? Just jammed the ring on and figured you’d go down with the ship?!”

“He was _everything_ to me!” you cried, voice ragged, and I knew I had pushed too far. Had broken something already shattered. “He was my brother, my friend, my king. I _loved_ him, Gladio, loved him in a way that defies definition. I swore to protect him just as you did, and I won’t apologize for following through on my oath. And even though he’s supposed to return, I have no proof of that, and it terrifies me beyond belief.”

“So now you’re calling my oath into question?” I shot back, well and truly pissed now, my anger distorting your words. “I’ve been beaten and bloodied for him more times than I can count. But sure, because I didn’t jump straight to the last fucking resort, go ahead and call me an oathbreaker. It’s not like _my entire family line_ has been sacrificing their sons for Lucian kings for the last Gods know how long.”

“There’s no use talking to you when you’re in this state,” you rasped, turning your back on me.

My fury reached a fever pitch and I barrelled forward. “What was I, then? A distraction? A warm body at night? Someone you could fuck who wouldn’t get mad about the sheer number of hours you just weren’t there?”

You snapped your head back towards me at the words, lips drawn back and teeth bared in a grimace. “Gods, Gladio, you’ve been my lover for years and my best friend for longer than that. I cannot believe you have the audacity to ask me any of that. If you’re not able to understand that it’s possible to love more than one person, to love people in different ways, it really is bloody hopeless,” you snarled back.

“You don’t even know who you are without him, do you?” I demanded, closing the gap between us.

This, as it turns out, had been the worst thing of all to say. I watched you deflate, your anger gone as soon as it had shown. You exhaled, air puffing out your gaunt cheeks, and tears started to stream down your face too.

“No. I don’t believe I do. Not really. And everytime I look at you, when I think of our memories together, so many of them have him in it. The waiting, the uncertainty, the fear. It hurts, worse than the ring, worse than anything,” you said, choking back a sob.

I should have held you, should have let you cry until you ran out of tears. But my pride has always been an ugly thing, and it reared its horrid head then.

“Feel free to go figure it out. Door’s right there,” I growled, pointing one finger at the door and turning my back on you.

There was a sob, some shuffling, and still I didn’t turn back. Then I heard the snick of the door to the room closing shut behind me.

Many hours and many tears later, I found my phone. I typed out a single message to you.

_G: I’m sorry._

I never got a reply.

* * *

For three years, we didn’t see each other at all.

I heard of you, sure, caught your name on the lips of other hunters or in saw it on a news broadcast on the net. You were organizing a massive resistance, after all, so it was to be expected. But you were busy chasing your daemons and I was busy chasing mine.

The first year was a blur of fighting and fucking. I don’t remember much about that time - and I don’t want to go into it here - except utter mortification and shame. The revolving door of men and women that found their way into my bed couldn’t erase the memory of your touch and left me emptier than before. Turns out you can’t fill a hollow heart with vacant eyes and despoiled bodies.

The second year I gave it an honest effort of shaping up. I dated a woman, Erika, for most of it, thought maybe I’d started to carve out a life beyond the Crownsguard for myself. I actually started to believe that I could have some part of a life that wasn’t connected to Noct. Or you. That I could be an _Amicitia_ without a king, a man without a home, and be content.

It was a short lived hope. She died in a daemon attack on her convoy from Vesperpool to Lestallum, and her death triggered the spiral that was my third year without you.

It wasn’t pretty. I embarked on a personal quest of self-destruction. Between going out on my own against hordes of daemons and coming back to fill myself with whatever liquor and drugs I could get my hands on, I was doing a pretty good job of it too. Eventually, I bit off more than I could chew and got torn to shreds by a Yojimbo, barely escaping with my life.

I haven’t told you this before, but it was your face I saw when I thought I was dying. That’s all I remember, really, beyond what others filled in for me later. Excruciating pain, rivers of blood flowing through dead grass, so much blood that it was dark ruby instead of bright red. Then nothing... and then you. At least my mind had done me one last kindness. I hoped you’d find it in you to forgive me for my carelessness someday. 

Except I didn’t die. I really, really wished I had. But the gods had other plans for me.

I spent the better part of two months recovering. Iris and I shared an apartment in Lestallum, and she was the one who nursed me back to health.

Wounds healing and withdrawal from all the crap I’d been pumping into my system gone, I felt better than I had in years. Maybe peering across the brink of death had helped nudge me back towards the land of living, but Iris pushed me over. We sat across from each other at our tiny kitchen table, forcing down a canned breakfast, the only thing available at the time.

I remember Iris studying me, so much more intense than the little sister I remembered. She’d grown into the Amicitia frame and could hold her own against pretty much anyone, even me. Especially me, really, given how far I’d let myself go.

“Gladdy,” she said, taking one of my hands in hers, “I need you to promise me something.”

“Shoot,” I said, squeezing her hand.

“You’re not gonna want to hear what I have to say,” she ventured, brow furrowing.

“Even I don’t wanna hear it, doesn’t mean I won’t listen,” I said.

“Alrighty then. Here it goes,” Iris paused, inhaled, continued, “Promise me you’ll take better care of yourself. I won’t watch you go through another year like this one. I can’t find you slumped over on the couch not knowing if you’re dead or alive. And, and… and I know Jared and Dad and Mom wouldn’t want to see you this way. Or Prompto. Or Noct.”

Even she hesitated before dropping your name, but drop it she did.

“Or Ignis.”

I blinked at her words. Six, I’d been selfish. Incredibly selfish. Here we were, each other’s only living family, and I was too busy chasing any form of oblivion I could find to realize how much I’d worried her.

I thought her use of Noct’s name, of _your_ name, would sting more, but it was more like a splash of ice cold water on your face in the morning. Like I had been asleep, trapped in a bad dream, and was trying to wake myself up.

“Gladdy?” Iris prompted, and I realized I had followed the trail of my thoughts for several minutes.

“Iris… I’m really sorry. I’ll do better. For both of us.”

Her answering smile was cautiously warm, the kind of warm you feel from sitting in a beam of sunlight all afternoon. Things weren’t fixed, not by a long shot, but I had felt myself finally take a step in the right direction.

* * *

Early in the fourth year, I saw you again.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t plan it a bit, as much as it could be planned. There were times that huge packs of daemons manifested simultaneously, something complicated about the Starscourge that I still don’t understand. The packs had to be put down quickly before they began to terrorize what few settlements remained in the area. A mass broadcast went out to every able bodied hunter when this happened.

One such pack broke out just south of Lestallum, and I had heard from a friend in the Guild a few nights ago that you had just come back to town. As I geared up, I found myself equal parts excited and nervous. Both emotions creaked through me, rusty with disuse.

Since these assaults required more organization, I scrounged for my Guild earpiece, knowing instructions and tactics would be broadcast over them. Imagine my surprise when your voice crackled over the earpiece as soon as I put it in, filled with static and slightly muffled, but unmistakably you.

“Daemon forces massing at coordinates -63.50 by 15.32. Horde number estimated to be over 100 at current projection. I’ll report with any updates, over,” you said, and a mellow ripple of heartache pulsed through me at your words.

I blinked and focused for a moment, trying to shake the feeling. Over a hundred daemons this time - the hordes were getting larger every time they appeared.

“Confirmed. Hunter HQ forces mobilizing at the Lestallum rally point. Estimated departure time at 1800 hours, over,” Cor said over the radio. Shit, I thought, if Cor was getting involved then it must be bad.

As with every large scale daemon attack, Lestallum bustled, its streets full of either hunters or support teams that stayed back in the city. I strode through the crowds and hustled down the stairs towards the rally point, the once parking lot where the Regalia sat so long ago. Even from this distance, I could see the churning purple vortex that tore through the sky. My eyesight wasn’t good enough to make out specific shapes from my vantage point, but I still saw what amounted to a lot of daemons.

“All hunters, prepare to move on my signal. Advance team, you are a go, over,” Cor barked.

At his words, three armored trucks thrummed to life in front of the lines of hunters. Their UV high beams flashed on and covered the pavement in blinding white light. Two smaller armoured cars with railguns mounted atop them followed behind the trucks, their gunners perched behind the artillery. The railguns would only be used as a first strike to try and mow down as many daemons as possible before the Hunters filled in. As the vehicles rolled down the road and beelined for the vortex, Cor’s voice came over the radio again.

“All hunters, prepare to engage and move out, over.”

And so we went, a wave of bodies and weapons in the night. Adrenaline filled me, pumping through my veins, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I knew you were so close or because I was about to shed a lot of daemon blood.

As soon as the vehicles crested over the hill opposite the city and started down the slope towards the vortex, the daemons surged forward. A line of weaker daemons disintegrated under the UV light of the armored trucks. The railguns came to life next, the rattle of their rapid fire cylinders popping in the air. The ranks weren’t nearly as thinned out as I’d have hoped by the time the first part of the horde was upon us.

As was protocol, I ran forward along with a swathe of other hunters, cutting out a path of retreat for the vehicles.

The thrill of battle sang through my blood. I pushed past the first line of trucks, made sure I was clear, and swung my greatsword around in a massive circle. The sound of the swords low whistle, the tearing flesh, and the unearthly screeching was sweet as music to me. I let my body lead the way, instinctually tearing through the weaker daemons without much thought, loose and limber.

I entrenched myself in the horde, became covered in pitch black daemon viscera, sweat dripping down my body. Swing and kill, stab and kill, these were easy rhythms to me. A quick survey indicated we were holding our own in this section with minimal losses.

“Reinforcements needed in the northwest quadrant. Iron---” you began over the radio, breaking off with a pained gasp before continuing, “Multiple Iron Giants and heavy casualties, over.”

I pulled my greatsword free of the Reaper in front of me with a grunt, its skeleton collapsing to the ground before disappearing into a thin cloud of purple smoke. I pressed on my earpiece.

“On my way,” I said over the radio, oriented myself, and ran.

Imps and goblins clogged my path and slowed my progress. I dispatched them, but each kill cost me precious time. I hadn’t liked the sound of the battle over the radio. I let momentum carry my sword through multiple smaller demons at once, their scrawny forms tearing easily beneath the blade.

I came to a gap in the horde and saw you across the clearing. Three Iron Giants converged on you, massive blades swiping in huge arcs in front of them. You rolled, dodging out of the way, your lithe form weaving between their blades like a dancer.

I picked up the pace, urging my body to close the gap faster. I watched as one of the daemons caught you with the flat of the blade and sent you sprawling across the grass. As I sprinted towards you, my lungs and legs screamed in protest, not used to me pushing them this hard.

One of the Iron Giants lifted its sword above its head. You were right under the blade and dazed from the blow you’d taken. My shield, so long forgotten, materialized in my hand. Three more strides, two, one…

There was a screeching, grating clash of metal on metal as my shield caught the Iron Giant’s blade. I trembled beneath the pressure of it, grunted through a clenched jaw, and shoved the blade back with my shield before extending a hand down to you.

“Time to get up, Iggy,” I called, watching the Iron Giant prepare for another strike.

You clasped my hand, pulled yourself up, and I was glad to note the surprise in your green eyes. That’s all I had time to see before the daemon struck again. This time I parried its blade with mine, bellowing a challenge in its direction.

Your daggers flashed, blinked out of existence, and became a polearm. It was a mystery how the three of us were still connected to Noct’s magic, but we used it to our every advantage.

“You have my thanks,” you said, parrying another strike with your lance.

“No prob. You ready to rumble?” I asked, delivering a ferocious kick to the metal joint at the daemon’s knee.

“Always,” you replied, smooth as ever, and vaulted yourself into the air on your lance.

After three years, I thought any trace of our synergy would have been lost to the ravages of time. But no, here it was again, just like we fought together yesterday. Like we’d never been apart.

You came crashing down onto the Iron Giant and rendered it prone, catching yourself on your lance and backflipping away. I followed the strike with an overhead chop to the daemon’s helmed head, which flew off and dissolved the creature into miasma.

“Two to go. You set ‘em up, I’ll knock ‘em down,” I said.

Your daggers flashed back into your hands, electricity crackling around them. I watched as you zipped back and forth between the two Iron Giants, lightning cascading down their armored forms. When you came back down and stabbed both daggers into the ground, twin columns of lightning spouted up and engulfed the daemons.

Their forms slumped and stunned, I saw my opening. Widening my stance, I lifted my greatsword and swung it with all my might. The blade cut through one daemon and then the other, straight through their midsections. Both daemons collapsed, disintegrating.

We both stopped to catch our breath. When I looked at you, I realized how very much I had missed you. You looked healthier than when I last saw you, muscles defined and cheeks full. Your hair was longer and swept back into a tame pompadour. A few more scars tucked against the corner of your lips, across the back of your hand. But the real change was in your eyes, purposeful and focused, and I was so relieved. I longed to hug you, but my sense of timing had improved; now was not a good moment.

I didn’t want to let you go without saying something, though, so I settled for speaking the smaller truth aloud.

“Good to see you, Iggy. Take care of yourself out there,” I said, already facing back towards the battle at hand, convinced that I’d get no reply.

“Likewise, Gladio. Likewise,” you said. I looked over my shoulder at you just in time to catch a ghost of a smile.

The battle was hard fought, but we won with minimal casualties when all factors were considered. There were always bodies at the end, and sometimes I forced myself into thinking of them as mere bodies to tamp down on the loss. The currency of any war is life. 

You can get used to pretty much everything; daemons, and dying to them, were the new everything. But seeing you had dredged up a fact I had been running from for years: I had never gotten used to life without you.

* * *

The morning after the attack, I woke up to the message indicator blinking on my phone. Figuring it was either Iris, Prompto, or someone from Hunter HQ - the only three parties that ever tried to reach me that way - I ignored it and chose to shower instead. Last night’s shower had been a short affair to clean away most of the grime before collapsing into bed. I took as much time as I could with water rations in place.

I thought of you, and of times when I didn’t always shower alone. I pushed aside the thought, watched it swirl down the drain of my mind like the murky black water from my shower the night before.

Refreshed and dry, I finally picked up my phone to look at the message. My heart jerked in my chest like a car struggling to change gears.

_I: I hope this is still your number. I’m leaving tonight but would like to see you before I go. Meet me at Tastwell’s at 1400?_

You had texted me in the early hours of the non-morning. I glanced at the clock in the living room - 13:52. Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

I tied my hair back in a ponytail, threw on the nearest clean clothes I could find, and bolted out the door. I learned firsthand that it’s difficult to maintain one’s dignity while speed walking, but I gave it my best effort. Several acquaintances waved to me as I ducked between the cramped alleyways.

I rounded the last corner to the cafe’s small seating area, and there you were.

You were studying your watch. Your legs were crossed and your arms folded, your body a series of debonair angles. Excruciatingly handsome, more than ever, I thought, but time may have played a hand in that as well. The longing I felt last night redoubled. _Astrals_ , even now I struggle to find the right words to say how much I missed you.

I knew how badly I had fucked up in those weeks after we lost Noct. I spent the better part of that first year thinking of ways I could make it up to you, of ways to beg for your forgiveness and have you back in my life. I had been too scared to try, and then the years had piled up, and well, here we were.

When our eyes connected across the crowded plaza, when you raised one gloved hand in greeting, it felt like home. I reached your plastic table and took a chair opposite you.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said by way of explanation, “Almost missed your text.”

“Not a problem. I was fairly certain you weren’t going to stand me up,” you replied, green eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Wouldn’t miss the chance to catch up for the world,” I said.

“Indeed. It’s been far too long,” you replied. Our last conversation settled between us like a spectre, thickening the air with unease. After a couple of too-long moments of tension, we broke the silence.

“I’m so sorry, Iggy-”

“Gladio, I’ve been meaning-”

We tried to talk at the same time and ended up talking over each other. Despite its awkwardness, it sliced through the tension like a sword, and we both chuckled.

“You go ahead,” I said, not trusting myself to speak yet anyway. You cleared your throat and began again.

“Gladio, you’ve been on my mind since last night. I’ve been... meaning to reach out. To apologize.”

“I’ve been on your mind, huh?” I asked, grinning. It was easier this way, easier to flirt and be friendly and not look too hard at the spiderweb of cracks between our souls.

You fixed me with such a pointed glare that I couldn’t help but laugh. There was the Ignis of my memories, overlaid atop this ~~older~~ ~~wiser~~ ~~harder~~ ~~softer~~ lovelier version of you.

“I see time has done nothing to diminish the size of your ego,” you replied, the words blurry around the edges, their shape leaking through present and past.

“You caught me on a good day, honestly. Hasn’t been simple these past few years. But I’m doing alright. As good as can be expected, with all the shit that’s been happening,” I said, paused, continued before fear could rob me of the words, “I think it’s me who owes you the apology, Iggy.”

“While your delivery could have been better, you raised some valid points. Can we agree on a mutual apology, at least?” you asked.

For once, I was glad that we skirted around the heart of the issue, unsure if this brittle bridge we were building could survive the explosion of Noct’s name.

“Sure, Iggy. You know I can’t say no to you, anyway,” I said.

My gaze dropped to your hands folded on the table in front of you. I decided I’d had enough of being a coward. I reached out, cupped your laced fingers on both sides with my hands, and cradled them like I was shielding the flickers of a budding flame.

I scoured your face for a reaction, for any sign of the feelings you were so skilled at keeping under rigid control.

“Perhaps too many blows to the head have impaired your memory. I recall several times you’ve told me no before, rather vividly, I might add,” you said.

But your tone held a gentle, teasing note, and you didn’t move your hands away, and when I found the courage to look you in the eyes, a smile crinkled their corners.

I can’t recall much of what we talked about after that, but I do remember that you didn’t take your hands away, that the warmth of your skin under mine was like a severed circuit reconnected. I don’t think either of us was ready to delve deeper, to start repairing the damage in our foundation.

But it was a start, and all things start somewhere.

“As lovely as this has been, I’d best be going,” you finally said, withdrawing your hands from mine.

You stood from the table and pushed your chair in under it, smoothing your jacket down after. I rose as well, chair scraping hard against the concrete. I moved to stand beside you, too aware of our bodies, trying to maintain enough distance so that my need didn’t spill out in the space between us, messy and complicated.

“Be safe, Iggy,” I said, the words rolling over my tongue with all the reverence of a prayer.

You arched one perfect eyebrow at me, a thoughtful sparkle in your eyes, the calculation to my instinct. Your arms were beside your body and you spread them a fraction, faced your palms out towards me, and there it was. A invitation.

I had faced daemon hordes and imperial armies, had borne the wrath of kings and gods alike, had watched your life ebbing away in front of me as unstoppable as the tide, and I had done it all with some degree of fear. But darling, the terror I felt when you offered your embrace to me, when you welcomed me back into your arms in that precise and deliberate way of yours, _that_ was a terror to behold.

Some things the body remembers no matter how hard the mind tries to forget, and this was no exception. I wrapped my arms around your shoulders, your arms wound around my waist, and your head came to rest against my chest, one ear pressed against my heart. There’s no way you couldn’t hear the rapid thump-thump-thump of it, powered by the savage and terrible elation coursing through my veins. I rubbed your back with gentle passes up and down your spine, longing to ease the knots I could feel underneath my palms.

I never wanted to let go. I never have. I never will.

“Gladio,” you murmured, your lips scorching a line of fire into my skin using my name in place of magic, “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t. I promise,” I said. This time, I meant to keep my word, both to you and to Noct.

* * *

A seed of trust had been planted that day by our reconciliation. It still needed time and love and care to grow, to fill the barren patches between us with life again, but it was there.

You made a point of stopping by Lestallum each time you were in the area, which was usually every month or two. We met in public places, had dinner or coffee or sat on a bench just talking for hours, bathed in the reddish glow of the city’s power plant. I think both of us were a little nervous about what might happen behind closed doors, afraid of the releasing the dark, sinuous creature made of desire and memory that we kept under lock and key.

Having you back in my life, even as my friend, reignited my sense of purpose. I began to travel, making supply runs to neighboring outposts or being stationed to them to shore up their defenses during daemon outbreaks. Whenever I relocated, I made sure to tell you. Sometimes that led to our paths crossing, two ships in a monster filled night.

My calendar was measured out in units of you as opposed to days or months. There was the time we laced our fingers together as we walked through Lestallum, making it so damn simple to pretend we weren’t embroiled in endless war and waiting for our king to come. Next followed the time you came to Old Lestallum Outpost after I told you I had been injured, the tires of your armored car squealing across the pavement when you arrived. You insisted on helping me rebandage the wounds that raked across my back, your touch equal parts efficient and tender. You said it was a shame that my tattoo had been marred, that when you thought of me you always pictured the sweeping black lines, and I clung to the knowledge that I was in your thoughts at all.

The fourth year passed in a soft and shapeless blur after that, our paths growing parallel once more.

At the beginning of the fifth year, we met in Hammerhead, brought there by a daemon outbreak. We fought together again with little need for words - we have always been two halves of a whole in combat, the instincts sharpened by years of practice. The battle finished, the bodies were tallied, and my only selfish thought was I was glad yours wasn’t among them.

We went our separate ways to sleep, clean up, and soon you were on your way again. I don’t think you know how to not be busy, and I can’t say I blamed you.

I stopped you before you could get in your car, ready to test the waters and tired of thinking so fucking much. My palm cupped your cheek, and when you didn’t shy away, I kissed you. I had only intended a graze of my lips against yours, a splash of colour for the faded memory of what kissing you could be like, but _oh_ , you gave me more. Your lips parted, your mouth wet and scorching, your tongue massaging mine and igniting a fire in my spine. When we came up for air, I had to tear myself away; the image of your glistening, swollen lips haunted me for many nights to come.

Two months passed without you, your messages sparse, and I wondered if I had taken too much, pushed too hard. Then, the day before your birthday, I found a message waiting on my phone.

_I: I’ll be in Lestallum tomorrow. Let’s meet up?_

It was no different than your other texts; relief swept through me like a breeze.

_G: Sure. The usual spot?_

The reply flashed up almost immediately.

_I: If you don’t have any objections, I’ll stop by your apartment around 1900._

Don’t think, Gladio. Don’t speculate. Just say yes. I’m embarrassed to admit that my fingers trembled as I typed the reply.

_G: Sounds good. See you then._

Iris had moved out to live with her girlfriend, so I had the place to myself, but my nerves still clattered and clacked against one another all the same. I busied myself with making the place look presentable for the remainder of the evening, washing sheets and taking out trash and wiping counters and scrubbing toilets. When I finally heaved myself into bed, I twisted and turned, my thoughts fever bright and staving off sleep.

When my alarm went off, I snoozed four times, trying to snatch a few more moments of rest. On the fifth buzz, I finally turned it off. I showered, spent more time than I care to admit shaping my beard, and then set off in search of a present. It took three hours and calling in a couple of favours, but I came back to my apartment the proud owner of a case of Ebony, a single bright green bow atop it.

I kept my body busy while I waited for 1900 to arrive, moving the antidote to thinking. There was barely enough space in the living room to progress through my old warm-up stretches, remnants of my time in the Crownsguard, but it was enough. It felt nice, actually, and I made a mental note to do it more often, even when I wasn’t trying to mute the synapses that screamed of nothing but you.

As soon as the clock flipped to 1900, there was a knock at my door. I had never known you to be late in my life and I hadn’t expected you to start today. One deep inhale, one long exhale, and then I went and answered the door.

“Hey, Iggy,” I said, keeping my limbs and smile loose.

You were dressed down for you, which was still dressed up for ninety percent of the population. No gloves, no jacket, only a white and blue polo shirt with crisp jeans that ended in your regular boots. Suspenders, of course. Glasses, like always, which you pushed up your face while I regarded you.

“May I come in?” you asked. One corner of your mouth twitched upward, an almost-smile.

“Right, uh, of course,” I said, removing my frame from the doorway so you could enter. I shut the door behind you, careful not to slam it.

You peered around the room and I could almost see the gears turning in your head, cataloguing the pieces of my apartment into a more coherent narrative of my life. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. When your eyebrows raised, I thought I had forgotten some bit of trash, but I followed your gaze to the case of Ebony resting on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“How in the world did you come by that?” you asked, flicking your gaze back to me.

“Through coercion, begging and more gil than I wanna admit,” I said, “Should have hidden it better, but hey - happy birthday, Iggy.”

You walked over to the coffee table and ran your slender fingers along the case, pausing to pluck at the bow. Your back was to me so I couldn’t see your expression to judge it.

“Thank you, Gladio,” you said, tone solemn. I came up beside you and patted you on the back, careful of letting my hand linger too long.

“No prob. I would say I hope it helps you get through those long nights, but since it’s sorta always night now…” I said, grinning. I took two steps over to the couch and sank down into it. You came and perched beside me, breathing out a sigh so slight I wouldn’t have noticed if I weren’t hyper aware of your every movement.

“Another year gone, another year older, another year closer,” you said quietly.

There it was, clear as the daylight we never saw, the aperture of a conversation we’d been putting off for half a decade. I draped an arm over your shoulders and you eased yourself against me, snug enough that our bodies pressed together at every juncture, your head resting on my shoulder.

“Iggy, if you wanna talk, I’m here to listen,” I said. Another step down the path, tentative, unsure.

“It went rather poorly last time,” you said. I knew what you were struggling with, knew that your need to predict every possible outcome couldn’t be satisfied with something as confused and sloppy as the human heart.

I squeezed your shoulders, dared to plant a kiss on the top of your head, buried my lips in your hair. I felt your body relax by several degrees. You and I have always been creatures of touch, our craving multiplied exponentially when we indulged it together. I wondered if you had allowed yourself any comfort these past five years. I hoped that, if you had, you’d found some solace in it.

“Yeah. It did. But I think we can do it right this time,” I replied.

You reached a hand across my lap to grasp my other hand. I took it, wove my fingers in yours, the rise and fall of my chest the only movement I dared to allow myself. We stayed like that so long and you went so still that I thought you might have fallen asleep.

“Igs? You awake?” I whispered. No response.

Your breaths were spaced apart in equal measure. When I leaned forward to get a better view, I found your eyes closed and moving rapidly beneath your eyelids, lips parted slightly, glasses askew on your face. You really had fallen fast asleep. The sweetness of it made me ache, suffused me with wonder that I had actually gotten to see this side of you again.

You hadn’t succumbed to exhaustion like this since the days of running yourself ragged with Noct. Slow as grass growing, I eased myself out from under you, cradling your neck and upper back to lower you to the couch. I took your glasses off, folded them, and set them on the coffee table beside the Ebony. Fetching the one spare blanket from my tiny closet, I draped it over you, certain you’d have something to say about its garish orange hue when you woke.

I stole one last lingering glimpse of you before turning off the lights and retreating to my bedroom. I tried to read for a couple of hours, but my eyes slid over the words in my book and left them on the page unabsorbed. When I felt myself finally growing tired, I snuck out once more to the bathroom to brush my teeth, keeping the faucet to a trickle. When I crept back to the bedroom, I closed the door behind me, stripped down to my boxers, switched off the bedside lamp, and fell asleep.

A creak followed by rustling tickled at the edges of my consciousness, pulling me up to that somnolent edge where restfulness and wakefulness meet. I laid on the bed with my eyes still closed, willing myself back to the misty peace of sleep. A metallic clink accompanied the rustle and inched me closer toward consciousness. Huffing out a sigh, I cracked my eyes open. Though it was difficult to make out on the darkness, I thought I saw you. My eyes fluttered closed again. A dream, of course, because what else was on my mind but you before bed tonight.

Then a cool rush of air swept across me as the sheets were peeled back. I felt you climb into my bed and lay beside me, back facing me, not a scrap of clothing on you; every trace of drowsiness burned away with the fire that roared to life in my blood. I shifted, my body ever in tune with yours, and rolled over on my side to pull you closer to me. 

“Ignis?” I choked out, voice thick with sleep and sudden desire. I tried very hard to ignore the way your firm, taut body nestled against mine.

“I certainly hope so,” you said, shifting to press yourself closer to me.

“Um, not that I’m complaining... but you don’t need to do this,” I said, my register stuck a half-octave lower than normal.

A long pause. We lay there in the darkness, connected, the air thick with words unsaid. I placed a hand on your waist and traced your hip bones with my fingers while you thought.

Finally, you spoke. “Gladio... I’ve missed you a great deal,” you whispered, as though lending anymore breath to the words would cause them to float away unsaid.

“And I’ve missed you,” I echoed. Quelling the white-hot need I felt was an exercise in control better suited for you, but I managed.

How many nights had we spent like this, skin to skin, tangled so much in one another that it wasn’t clear where we began or ended, talking until the dawn bruised the sky?

“I’ve thought about what I wanted to say to you for a long time. And I’m finally ready to say it. In case you’ve been harbouring any doubts, I do love you, unconditionally and unequivocally,” you said.

The words poured in and over me, stitching together my wounded heart one syllable at a time.

“Our oaths placed us both in the precarious position of Noct coming first. They always will. But you have always been the one I leaned on for support, the one I turned to when all felt lost, the one who helped hold me together. As I was there for Noct, so you’ve been there for me. When I examine my actions at Gralea in that light… I can see how badly it hurt you.”

And there it was, the grisly crux of the problem that had thrust us apart, laid bare in the shadows between us. I idly ran my hand up the length of you, sliding it between skin and sheets, stopping when I got to your shoulder and travelling back down.

“Yeah, it did hurt. Still doesn’t make what I did okay,” I replied, each word bundled in caution. My heart seemed to hammer out a rhythm I couldn’t stop, _please don’t go, please don’t go, please don’t go_.

“We’re in agreement there,” you replied, shivered under my hand, and continued after a beat, “Which brings me to my conclusion. I will always love Noct dearly - this is an immutable fact. But I also love you, Gladiolus, love you in a myriad of ways that I may never be able to express, and I am extraordinarily _tired_ of being without you. I can’t promise that loving me will be perfect or painless, but I would be yours all the same.”

I let out a long, shaky breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Tears smoldered behind my eyes before slipping down my face. You shifted and turned to face me, and I could see the tears collecting like dew in the corners of your eyes too.

“I love you too, Ignis. You’re the most fucking _incredible_ man I’ve ever known, and I’d be lucky to have you as long as you want me,” I said, “I only have one small, humble request.”

“Yes?” you asked.

I lifted my hands and cradled your face in them, using my thumbs to wipe the tears from your cheeks. I pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before speaking. “Stay with me for the rest of forever, however long that is. And tell me when I’m being a big, stupid idiot if it looks like I’m about to ruin things again.”

“The first part of that request is no trouble at all,” you said, smooth as ever, “But the second part may prove a challenge.” 

I laughed, the sound a bit hoarse from crying, but laughter all the same. I showered your face with kisses until you started laughing as well. 

You wrapped your arms around me, nimble fingers sketching out all the new scars since the last time we’d been together. Then your hands went lower, and the laughter transitioned to a melody of gasps and moans and hitching breaths.

We lost ourselves in each other, in the music created by our bodies, in the sheer power of the relief that follows a heartbreak healed. When it reached the fever pitch of its crescendo, we fractured around it, the joy left in its wake indescribable in its brilliance.

* * *

Five years with you back in my life, even though we spent large swathes of time apart, even though we lived under a black sky that spilled daemons from it, passed like a half-remembered dream. We were meant to be together, you and I, and even in the darkness, our love grew.

And then our King returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it to the end of this, thank you and I'M SORRY! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated as always, even if the comment is just to tell me how much I hurt you.
> 
> Stay tuned for the last and final chapter in the New Year! [And come yell with me on Tumblr here.](http://aliatori.tumblr.com/)


	4. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are bound together, the two of us, a bond that will last beyond this lifetime and well into the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the incredible, amazing [@Xylianna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Xylianna).

**4 - Spring**  
_“Expect to have hope rekindled. Expect your prayers to be answered in wondrous ways. The dry seasons in life do not last. The spring rains will come again.” - Sarah Ban Breathnach_

I mentioned earlier that I had borne witness to two miracles in my lifetime. The second wasn’t Noct’s return - as incredible as it was - but rather, how we managed to save him.

You were the one who organized our meeting in Hammerhead, insisting that Noct would be there. Prompto met us as well, full of nervous enthusiasm. Once I got my head out of my ass and got back together with you, we saw Prompto more as well; even daemons and an eternal night hadn’t dampened his inner light much.

Talcott’s truck pulled into Hammerhead station. You were stiff as a board beside me, but as soon as a boot appeared from the passenger door, you stood utterly still.

The Noct who returned to us was not the spoiled child who once infuriated me to no end, nor the young man all of us grew to love in our own ways, nor the determined prince in exile who warped into a magical crystal without a second thought.

Before us stood a _king_.

Whatever else I was, whatever else I will be, I am forever an Amicitia, sworn to Shield the king. And when I saw Noct again, I felt my oath settle over me like a mantle. It twined through my blood and soul and self, a duty that I would never forsake again.

And as you and Noct embraced, I saw your devotion to him written in the curve of your spine, in the careful absence of any tears in your eyes, in the tentative way your hands cradled his shoulders and neck as though he would disappear again. I saw the same love I’d seen a hundred times before he left us, with one key difference: I felt it resonate in me.

I’ll never know for sure what gave us the strength to endure what we did, but my best guess is that it was love. 

We made it through the daemon infested Insomnia and to the throne room. Noct paused before ascending the stairs, looked at each of us in turn.

“I can’t do it alone,” Noct said.

“You won’t have to,” you replied.

“We’re right beside you,” Prompto added.

“Gone too far together not to see it through,” I said. I thought of my father, grief tugging at my heart like a long-healed scar, and I vowed to make him proud.

Noct, after so many long years, assumed his place upon the throne of Lucis, the Chosen King home at last. The Ring of the Lucii began to emit a soft, white light as the specters of kings past surrounded us.

You were the first to kneel to the right of Noct, head bowed, extending a hand up to the king. As he took it, the light from the ring grew stronger. Prompto was next to follow suit, sinking to his knees right in front of Noct and grabbing your free hand. Prompto fixed me with his violet gaze, offering his hand to me. I knelt, clasped my hand with Prompto’s and turned my attention to Noct.

I felt Noct’s hand settle on my shoulder, squeeze it once, then grip the hand I offered. The circle was complete and the Ring of the Lucii blazed with light. 

All four of us have stared death in the face at one point or the other, but I think it’s fair to say we stared at it together that night. As each spectre rushed through us to Noct, I felt a tearing pain, a ripping of spirit from body. But I also felt the three of us linked together in the resplendent light of the crystal, sharing that pain.

Through gritted teeth and gripping hands we endured. We shielded Noct from the brunt of the assault while allowing him to absorb the power of kings past. With my strength, Prompto’s heart, and your beautiful will, we persevered.

And then came the last of the kings. Regis.

“Dad,” Noct whispered, the sound nearly lost in the vastness of the throne room.

The ghostly Regis took up the Sword of the Father, the only physical royal arm left. He passed through our bodies to stand in front of us.

“Thank you, all of you, for standing by him. For being his brothers. For lending him your strength in his most dire hour of need. For having the courage to challenge fate.”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, could barely breathe. But I heard the words, and they ignited a hope in me so fierce that it ached. Regis’s spirit turned to Noct.

“Rule well, my beloved son.”

Before any of us could react, he thrust the Sword of the Father at Noct. But at the last second, an instant before it would have rent flesh, it became spectral. It pierced Noct’s heart all the same. There was pain so consuming I thought I was burning alive, a loss of gravity, the sensation of falling, and then…

You lived through it as well, dearest, so you know what I mean when I say that words were never meant to shape those moments. We stood beside Noct in what I can only assume was the crystal’s interior, iridescent power cascading through us. And when Noct held out his ringed hand to destroy the remnants of Ardyn Lucis Caelum once and for all, we felt him start to fracture.

But we held on. Where once he had gone where we couldn’t follow, we had followed, and we would never let him go again.

A blink in the liminal spaces between past and present, a moment of eternity lost that we would never get back, and we were in the throne room once more. We were tired, beaten, bruised… but alive. Together.

I looked up to meet Noct’s eyes and was overcome. I said the only thing I could think to say, words I had only spoken as a joke before but that meant so much more now. 

“Your Majesty.”

* * *

The thing no one mentions about saving the world is that it has to be rebuilt after. And in addition to rebuilding an entire kingdom, there was the changing nature of our positions as well.

With Noct back, you’d stepped back into the role of Royal Chamberlain and Advisor like we hadn’t just spent a decade at war with hordes of daemons. I would expect nothing less of you, my love, so don’t take that as a criticism. Out of everyone I know, you’ve always been the most unwavering about your place in the world.

I, on the other hand, was struggling a bit to adjust to my appointment as Captain of the Crownsguard. The training, the organization of duty rosters and patrols, the inventory of supplies, rebuilding the Kingsglaive - these were all things I could easily adjust to. I had years of experience helping organize the Hunter militia at Lestallum, so putting a Crown City backdrop on those skills wasn’t much of a stretch.

But the _meetings_.

I thought of my father a lot in the months after our return to Insomnia, but never so much as when I was stuck in another four hour meeting with nothing to do but stand beside Noct. Perhaps it had been easier on Father since he had also led the Council, but I found my attention drifting even at the best of times. Usually, that attention drifted to you.

It was like the early years of knowing you all over again. I would watch mesmerized as you tapped a pen against your lips in thought, as you furiously underlined some bullet point in your notes for later discussion, as you pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers which meant you really felt like screaming. I memorized each habit, filing them away for reference in my mind.

Occasionally you’d catch me in the act of staring. After smothering a smile, you would fix me with a sharp look that I didn’t need to be an expert to read: _pay attention, Gladio_. This would work for a time, but eventually, I would find myself staring again. I can’t help that I love seeing you in your element, so confident and knowledgeable. And beautiful, can’t forget that. The combination has always been devastating, but it made me particularly weak in the knees in those months after our return to Insomnia.

The nicest part about the change was the fact that we both stayed in the Citadel now. There was nothing more I looked forward to after an interminable day than having you in my arms at the end of it. You still cherished your time alone, so you kept an apartment and stayed there some nights as well. But it was still a change for the better.

We weren’t the only ones changing, either.

One week, I drew the short straw and got posted on overnight guard outside of Noct’s chambers. Another member of the Crownsguard offered to take my place but I declined, figuring that I should be willing to do the same tasks as anyone else. Also, I’d get out of daytime meetings for a week, which was more than worth the boring, odd hours.

Imagine my surprise when, in the wee hours of the morning, one Prompto Argentum showed up outside of Noct’s door. My smile stretched from ear to ear as he caught sight of me, leaning against the middle of the door with my arms and ankles crossed.

“Heeeeeeey, Big Guy,” he said in a small voice, ears already flushed with red.

“Hi, Prompto,” I replied, tilting my head as I considered him.

We stood in silence for several awkward moments. Well. Awkward for him, I imagine, but it was the highlight of my night.

“Soooo, ummm… you gonna let me in?” he asked. The skin under his freckles flushed bright pink.

“That depends, I guess. Do I need to pat you down for weapons?”

His only response was to sigh, place a hand on one hip, and study the ceiling intently.

“Just keep it down in there. I pretty much have to come running in if I hear any screaming,” I said, moving aside to let him through.

“You. Are. The. Worst,” Prompto muttered, pushing past me. I chuckled to myself.

And yes, I did show him the hidden entrance to avoid any further incident, so you can lower that perfect eyebrow that I know you have raised. As a Glaive, he should have known about it already. Consider it a lesson.

* * *

Still other things fell somewhere between new and old - they were things we’d done before, but time and experience had changed their contours to breathe new life into them. Sparring is one of the better examples of this phenomenon.

One of the advantages of being the Captain of the Crownsguard was having access to all the duty schedules and booking requests for the training room. Of course, I could also tell everyone to get the fuck out if I wanted to, but that seemed a bit excessive even to me. After consideration of all the requests, I found a space of time one evening where I could be alone and dig into some earnest practice. I’m hands on with the Glaive, as you know - no, stop smirking, I don’t mean like _that_ \- but I also didn’t want to seriously injure any of them because I wanted a challenge.

Maybe it was all the change all at once, or maybe it was the fact we weren’t constantly fighting for our lives for the first time in so long, but I was feeling that same itch that drove me to seek out Gilgamesh in our youth.

Yes, I know I’ve said I’m sorry about that before, but I’ll say it again here. I’m sorry.

Anyway, I worried I wasn’t strong enough. That I was letting myself get soft. That if anything came up where I needed to protect Noct I would have forgotten how to. I know how stupid that sounds, but it’s the truth of how I felt. Since there weren’t exactly anymore Shields of the Founder King around to challenge, the next best thing was to devote some time to my own practice.

I dressed down for the occasion, going shirtless and wearing a plain pair of track pants belted at the waist and stuffed into my boots. Another reason I preferred to be alone - I dig the uniform, but it can get pretty stuffy after a while. I went through basic warm up stretches to begin, going through and using each type of practice weapon afterwards.

When the door to the practice room opened up, I was ready to bark an order to clear out. I hadn’t even worked up much of a sweat yet. But, who did I see standing there but you? 

Don’t roll your eyes too hard, but part of the reason I’m sure we are meant to be together is your habit of showing up exactly when I need you most. 

“Excellent. I suspected I’d find you here,” you said, already stripping off a thin blue jacket that hit you mid-thigh.

“Iggy?” I asked, surprised, placing the lance I held back on the weapons rack, “Not that I doubt your ability to section off every minute of your day, but there’s definitely a meeting you’re supposed be in. Budgetary committee, I think, if I remember the calendar right.”

“You are correct, Gladiolus. There was a budgetary committee meeting that I was attending. I chose to leave that same meeting,” you said. Underneath the jacket you were dressed to spar. A white, athletic v-neck clung to your torso, your biceps and forearms exposed and currently tensed in frustration. I made a sincere effort to keep looking at your face once I made my way down to the grey leggings - they might as well have been painted on for how tight they were.

“You done for the day then, I’m guessing?”

“When the complete imbeciles masquerading as fellow committee members develop a capacity for rational thought and submit a viable proposal, instead of a steaming pile of bloody garbage, I will rejoin said meetings,” you said. You picked up the discarded jacket and produced a pair of black leather gloves from a pocket. When you pulled them on and snapped them closed at the wrists, you gave me an expectant look over the rims of your glasses.

Oh, _fuck_. Full name. Clipped tone. Big words.  Leggings. You were absolutely pissed… which meant this was gonna be good.

“You wanna go hard then? Real weapons? First blood?” I asked, trying and absolutely failing to keep the heat out of my voice.

There was a flash of blue and you held your daggers in both hands, twirling them in a circle after summoning them from the Armiger.

“Easy, easy,” I said, laughing softly, “How about some hand to hand to warm up first, then we can have some real fun?”

You inclined your head forward in agreement and dismissed the daggers. “Is magic permissible?” you asked.

“What the hell,” I agreed, “I ain’t been burned or shocked or frozen in ages. May as well for old time’s sake. Just promise me you won’t kill me, Iggy.”

“If I do, I promise I’ll bring you back to life,” you said, and the sultry smile you gave me after set my blood on fire. It was the promise of violence and pleasure, a knife sliding over silk, and my heart thundered in response.

We moved to the center of the room to give ourselves the most space. Your eyes went up and down the length of my body exactly once before you launched yourself at me, a whirlwind of precise strikes. I’m fast for my size, but you’ve always been faster, so I spent most of my energy tracking your movements to block your fists. I knew you were angry, knew that this first burst of energy was the _least_ dangerous part of sparring with you, so I wanted to conserve mine. You used your legs as weapons too, so I wove around you to avoid the vicious low kicks and leg sweeps you aimed in my direction.

You landed some solid hits still, the blows thudding against my chest and shoulders. When a backhand from you connected with my jaw, my head snapping to the side from the force of it, I knew it was time to get serious.

On your next volley of punches, I grabbed one of your arms with both of mine, turned, and flipped you clear over my shoulders to lay you out on the ground. The thud of you hitting the floor was followed by a hollow wheeze that meant the air had been knocked out of you. But after a loud gasp, you sprung back to your feet and went on the offensive again.

I pushed a little harder, knocking your fists aside, throwing a few punches of my own when I saw the opening. As you started to sweat, the anger faded from your eyes, replaced with that calculating look that was all tactician. I felt more limber too, warmth suffusing my body as I worked up my own sweat. You came close inside my guard and raised a knee that connected solidly with my abdomen. Fighting a brief flare of nausea, I used the opportunity to grab your shoulders and slam you to the ground again, opting for brute strength rather than finesse.

I stood over you, leaning down to offer you a hand up.

“Ready to get serious?” I asked, voice low. You smiled up at me, breathing a little hard, and reached up to take my hand. I’ll freely admit that I was distracted by the sight of you sprawled underneath me, sweating and chest heaving - I registered the wicked curve of your smile a fraction of a second too late. 

“You should know by now, darling, that I’m always serious.”

You pulled hard on my hand and got me off balance, raising a foot and planting it in my stomach. You leveraged the momentum of me falling along with the strength in your legs to send me flipping over your body. Gravity tilted and spun for a moment before I found myself flat on my back, struggling for air. I made a note to send whoever had pissed you off so badly a thank you card, at the very least, and got back to my feet.

You waited until I was looking in your direction to summon your daggers again, one corner of your mouth pulled up in a smirk. Ice began to coalesce on them in jagged, blue-white lines.

So _that’s_ how we were gonna play this, I thought.

I brought forth my greatsword from the Armiger, deciding I needed distance more than anything if you were using ice magic. You leapt forward no sooner than the weapon was in my hand, trying to close the gap before I could bring the blade up to parry. You were too slow, the points of your daggers screeching against the metal of my sword as I blocked the blow. The air cooled as you redoubled your efforts, a snowy swirl beginning to form near your feet. Droplets of sweat froze on my skin as you kept pressing the attack, your blades flashing in the light from the lamps overhead.

I jumped backwards, skidding across the floor and balancing myself with one hand on the ground. Before you could close the gap again, I began to swing my sword in wide arcs, forcing you to go on the defensive. All I needed was the barest touch, a tiny scratch, and victory would be mine. But between your agile rolls, fluid dodges, and the barrier of the ice at your feet, I couldn’t score a hit.

It was during this stalemate that I noticed something else - we weren’t alone anymore. I saw familiar black uniforms out of the corner of my eye, other members of the Glaive standing watch around the edges of the room. Now that I listened for it, I heard conversation too, hushed and quiet in the background.

But I also had you to contend with. As much as I trust you, have always trusted you, I couldn’t let my attention falter for a moment. The last thing either of us needed was an accident.

You sensed that instant of distraction, though. Several things happened in the space of three heartbeats. I noticed the crackle of electricity form around your daggers and the ice disappear. My greatsword flashed away, replaced with sword and shield out of instinct rather than conscious thought. And then you disappeared, leaving a streak of bright light in your wake, and reappeared right in front of me.

“Fucking… lightning… bullshit!” I hissed through my teeth, my shield crackling with the electricity from your daggers as you bore them against me.

“Language, _Captain_ ,” you said, your mint-coloured eyes locked with mine, challenge blazing bright and glorious in them. And then you disappeared again. For a moment, my mind struggled. How? You needed a target to aim at with the lightning to move towards it, and I really hoped you weren’t using the assembled Glaive to do it.

Then it dawned on me. The practice dummies stationed around the room. You were using them to get out of my range and then come back in.

I didn’t have time to think anymore, my focus entirely on blocking your assault. I wasn’t the King’s Shield for nothing, though, and I’d taken enough hits for Noct over the years to get really good at taking them. The hardest part was predicting your movements. All I had to go on were the streaks of light that appeared just before you did, pinpointing the direction from which you’d come.

Over and over again you assailed me, all the hair on my body starting to rise from the accumulated electricity. I needed to interrupt you or else you were bound to score first blood on me. The thrill of battle sang in my veins - we hadn’t gone this hard in a long time, and it felt _good_ despite my precarious situation. I tensed my muscles, waiting for your next jump.

There was a telling electric streak in the air on my right, the sign I’d been waiting for. With a roar, I thrust my shield in that direction, trying to throw you off balance once you materialized. The hit landed a little too forcefully and sent you flying backwards. You slammed into the adjacent wall with a resounding crash as a rack of practice weapons scattered across the ground. There was a gasp from the gathered Glaive. Sudden worry tightened my chest - had I hurt you?

You were up almost as quickly as you had fallen, chest heaving. When you didn’t make the sign to yield, the worry vanished as quickly as it had come. Your daggers dematerialized for a moment as you brought your gloved hands together, a tell-tale red glow between them.

I sprinted for you, trying to score a touch on you with my blade before you could bring your sagefire to bear against me. Had I been one step faster, I would have drawn first blood along your upper arm. But your daggers reappeared in your hands, a blazing fire roaring to life with them, so bright it blinded me for a moment. The air wavered with sudden heat as you caught my sword between your blades, pushing with all your strength to try to get the fire closer to me and force me to yield.

You were so alluring to me in that moment. Sweat dripping down the elegant planes of your face, illuminated in the orange-red of your sagefire. You had become your name in truth - Ignis, flame - and had unleashed that ember I’d seen hidden in your eyes so long ago. I learned all over again in that moment how strong you were, how graceful time and experience had made you, and how your determination had no bounds.

But I still wasn’t going to _let_ you win.

I swiped my shield at your hands and battered the daggers away, grimacing as I felt a line of fire burn up my arm. You began to inch forward from where I had you pinned against the wall, thrusting and whirling like an avatar of the Infernian himself to gain yourself space. Our blades met over and over again, parry and stab, parry and slash, stab and lunge. We knew each other too well for mere skill to be the outcome. Some small part of me hoped we hadn’t caught anything on fire, but most of me was trying desperately to seize some opening and end the match in my favour.

In the end, it came down to your wits - doesn’t it always? You let the fire disappear from your daggers and, in a move I’d seen often enough, kicked one of them straight towards the assembled Glaive on the opposite wall. I should have known you would never endanger Crown citizens for a mere sparring victory, but I jerked my head to follow the dagger’s path all the same.

In the time it took for me to see the dagger sticking harmlessly in the wall well above the crowd, you summoned your polearm, vaulted over me in a graceful arc, and had the sharp point of your lance pressed to the small of my back.

“I believe, Captain,” you said, voice low, “That’s match point to me.”

The gathered Glaive erupted into a cacophony of cheers, yells, chatter, and screaming.

“I believe, Advisor,” I replied, echoing your phrasing, “That you are correct.” I took one step forward and turned to face you. “Better make it official.”

When I looked down to see your flushed face, your small grin that for anyone else would be a triumphant smile, your clothes plastered to your body with sweat, I could have thrown you to the ground for a different reason entirely right then and there. And when you took the point of your lance and teased it along the corner of my lip, I almost did. I felt a tiny prick of pain and watched as you showed me the single drop of blood on the tip of the lance. You dismissed the polearm after that.

I bent to place my lips near your ear, speaking quietly enough that I was sure I couldn’t be overheard. “You know how fucking hot it makes me when you beat me,” I murmured.

I felt your lips curl into a smile against my own ear. “Why do you think I tried so very hard to win?” you whispered back.

If we hadn’t had an audience, I suspect events may have taken a different turn. As it was, I withdrew from you and turned to face the assembled Glaive.

“So. Since you’re all here, who wants to tell me exactly why I just got my ass kicked?” I asked, grinning and folding my arms over my bare chest.

“Because Advisor Scientia is a fucking beast!” a Glaive I recognized as Adrius called.

“You ain’t wrong, but not the answer I’m looking for,” I replied.

My eyes followed you as you walked over to where your jacket hung, back straight and chin tilted up. You slung the jacket over your shoulder and held it in place with two fingers. When your eyes met mine, the look in them promised all kinds of amazing the next time we were alone.

“Good evening, Captain Amicitia, Kingsglaive,” you said. You strode out of the room, head held high, every line of your body perfect elegance. One of the Glaive gave a low whistle as you left the room.

I snapped my fingers. “Hey, hey, mind your damn manners, ya animals. I asked a question.”

“It was the feint with the dagger, sir,” a young Glaive named Livia said, bringing her fist to her chest in a salute, “It drew your attention long enough for Advisor Scientia to secure a victory.”

“Thanks, Livia, that’s the ticket. Now, since you’re all here…”

Even though I managed to hold an impromptu training session and turn our fight into a lesson, my mind stayed on you.

Also, that day is when you got the nickname of The Beast. Not because they hate you. Just thought you should know.

* * *

Our lives fell into comfortable routine after that. We started sparring again occasionally, though not as intensely as that first time. Most of my days were taken up by the meetings, and the committees, and being the King’s Shield, and planning the security detail of the upcoming 1st Annual Dawn of Lucis Gala.

And you, of course. Always you, every chance I got.

But, for the better part of a year in between the rest of my duties, I also worked on restoring the Amicitia house. Not alone, obviously. I helped with the heavy lifting but left the more complicated stuff to professionals.

I fully expected my family home to have been destroyed in the chaos of the dark years. It had been badly damaged, but not ruined. And I knew better than most that just because a thing - a house, a person, a relationship - is broken doesn't mean it's beyond repair.

Iris came from Lestallum to help near the end. We spoke as often as we could over the phone or by text, but spending time with her in person was wonderful. We each had our own lives and walked our own paths, but coming together to rebuild our childhood home was bittersweet. My intent had been to gift the house to her, but she turned it down, stating that she was happy where she was. As one of the premier hunters in Lucis, I couldn't blame her.

I had asked her to Insomnia for another reason as well: to help with a surprise I had planned for you.

One evening when we found a gap in both of our schedules, I invited you over. I spent the time between my arrival and yours cleaning, not bothering to change out of my Glaive uniform. While the structural damage had been fixed and the interior restored, the house still lacked furnishing; beyond kitchen appliances, a single couch, and my bed, the inside of the house was pretty sparse.

The massive grand piano that had been delivered a few weeks prior made up for the barren state of the first floor. It also served as the centrepiece of tonight’s plan.

I heard your car pull up and went to open the front door. I hadn't meant to, but I found myself standing in the doorway watching you approach. You were still in your uniform as well, which meant the Council meeting you had been in ran late. You caught my eye and smiled as you crossed the driveway, instrument case slung over one shoulder.

A prickle of nerves ran along my skin. Astrals, this may have been my most stupid idea ever. But I was determined to see it through.

“It looks wonderful from the outside, Gladio. Marvellous,” you said, tilting your face up expectantly. I brushed a kiss across your lips and gave your hip a squeeze before standing aside.

“Thanks, but don't get your hopes up too much ‘til you see the inside,” I said.

I closed the door behind you and watched as you took in the surroundings. After wresting the knee-length Glaive boots off, you entered the house proper. You set the instrument case down gently, leaning it against the back of the couch. Your hand cupped your chin and your brows furrowed in a contemplative scrunch.

“This is more refined than I remember. You and Iris have been hard at work,” you commented.

“Surprised you remember what it looked like at all,” I replied.

“I have an excellent memory, Gladio, specifically regarding anything to do with you,” you said. Your tone was borderline offended but your smile broad.

I laughed and crossed the distance to you, wrapping my arms around your shoulders from behind and pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

“I should know better than to question Royal Advisor Ignis Scientia, Right Hand of the King and Savior of Lucis, Head Crownsguard Tactician-”

Now it was your turn to laugh. You twisted in my grasp and silenced me with your mouth, your lips warm and soft on mine.

“Now now, Gladio, you have as many titles as me. Perhaps more, now that I consider it. Would you like me to start listing them?”

“Nah. Within these four walls, we’re just Gladio and Iggy,” I said. I leaned down and touched my forehead to yours, relishing in the feel of you in my arms. “Gods, I am so glad to see you.”

“You saw me five hours ago,” you murmured, but you didn't pull away. I started to rock us back and forth in a poor imitation of a waltz.

“All the way across the Council chambers. Didn't get to touch you, doesn't count.”

“We also lunched together today, in case you’ve already forgotten.”

“Yeah, but not the _fun_ kind of lunch. Not like when we get to go out alone.”

This last statement finally made you pull back and fix me with a flat stare.

“Gladio, you literally held my hand underneath the table for half of the luncheon. And in front of the entire Council and several adjunct committees nonetheless. I’d venture that it was precisely like when we go out alone.”

I belly laughed at this, the sound echoing around the living room.

“You’re right, as always. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m still glad to see you.”

You stood straighter and adjusted your grip, putting one of your hands on my waist and holding the other in the air. I yielded to you and let you take the lead. The quality of our living room waltz immediately improved.

“I’m beginning to think it’s rather fortunate you’re not expected to dance at the upcoming gala. Think of all the poor feet you’d slaughter,” you said, clasping my hand a little tighter. I couldn’t help letting out a contented sigh as you leaned forward to nuzzle into my neck. When the row of closed lip kisses led to wet, lingering kisses with your tongue sliding against my throat, I gasped, low and quiet.

“Sexy, brilliant, _and_ ruthless. And you wonder why you’re the only man for me,” I purred as you whirled us across the mostly empty room. “But as much as I _love_ where this is going, I did have a couple things in mind first.”

“I’ll admit you’ve piqued my curiosity by requesting that I bring my violin. Would you like me to play for you? It’s been quite some time,” you said. You slowed our pace, moving us in lazy circles.

“Yeah, I would… but there’s something else, too,” I replied.

“And what would this something else be?” you asked.

“It’s a surprise,” I said. With no small amount of reluctance, I let go of your hands and stepped away from you, ending our dance. I crossed the living room to the bench in front of the piano. “Wanna grab your violin?”

“Certainly.”

I settled myself on the bench, wiggling my fingers experimentally over the keys. I’d been practicing a lot and was fairly sure I could pull this off, but it was different when you were standing beside me. I looked over my shoulder to see you holding both bow and violin loosely by your sides, your head tilted and teal eyes sparkling. 

“I have a sneaking suspicion I know where this is headed…” you started, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

“Yeah, probably. You’ll recognize the song for sure. You must have played it for me a dozen times, but you always had to put the piano part on separately. You’ll know when to jump in. Ready?”

I’m so glad I was looking at you when you lifted the violin and placed it under your chin. You lined up the bow and your graceful fingers on the instrument until satisfied, then gave me a nod. I felt like I could see your present day self - more scarred, less guarded, a bit softer, still beautiful enough to take my breath away - blurring with the reserved, decorous young man I first fell in love with.

After one deep breath, I began to play.

Despite the hours and hours of practice, I fumbled a few notes in the beginning. The start of the song was mellow and slow, ramping up in intensity about a minute in. Never one to disappoint, you slid in right on cue, the first hum of the violin sending a wave of frisson along my skin.

I faltered a couple more notes when you began to play but regained my focus quickly. I almost wished I had the luxury of devoting my full attention to your playing, but being able to play with you at all was an entrancing experience. For over a decade our focus had been death and destruction. To have the luxury of _creating_ with you was almost more than my heart could bear.

When the quivering sounds of the violin faded into the second piano solo, I channeled my emotions into my fingertips, pounding the keys a bit harder than necessary. There might have been a breathy chuckle from you at my enthusiasm, but I played on, adrift in the music.

You brought the violin to life in your hands once more. I shivered as I pictured what you must look like playing. You become so expressive when you make music, all swaying body and tense forearms and sparkling eyes. Sometimes you would close your eyes when it was a song you knew well, working your way through the melody by touch and sound alone. The tension in the rest of your body would melt away, all of your energy focused on playing, a blissful look on your face. It wasn’t quite a loss of control - more like a relaxation of it, letting yourself get a little lost in the music.

I couldn’t help but think of that version of you as my fingers drifted across the piano, and how much I loved seeing it, and how much I loved you in general, and I tried my very best to channel all of that love into my playing. 

Three quarters through the song, there was a violin solo, and I finally got my chance to look at you. And Gods, what I saw was beyond perfection. There was that loosening of your body, the same one I had always treasured, but also… _more_. A few strands of your hair fell into your face, your eyes half lidded, scarred lips pursed together in concentration. The violin sang under your touch, the ascending, heart wrenching notes coiling around my spine and making me shudder.

You lifted your eyes to meet mine and my heart chugged through several hard, aching beats. You’ve always had the incredible ability to say so much with your eyes, and that moment was no exception. I could write a novel on what I found in that look alone. Elation, awe, surprise, tenderness and a glimmer of sorrow, all wrapped up in that stunning green gaze. That look was as complex as you are, my dear, and though I’m aware I may never fully understand you, it’s a constant delight to try.

And then you _winked_ at me, inclining your head towards the piano, and the moment broke, eased into something light and free. I almost missed where I was supposed to rejoin you, but I didn’t. The cool ivory keys of the piano warmed under my touch as I played, the notes of our song climbing towards the conclusion of the piece. Just like we were, it was something new and old, familiar and different, a new adventure and a homecoming all in one.

When the last haunting cry of the violin and the last resonant note from the piano sounded together before fading into silence, I found my cheeks wet with tears. I ran my fingers lightly over the piano keys while I took a few deep breaths to collect myself. Behind me, I heard the clicking sounds that meant you were putting the violin back in its case.

Once I was certain my legs would support me, I pushed the bench back and stood up, turning to face you. There was a look of subdued wonder on your face, a look so powerful that fresh tears welled in my eyes to have it directed at me.

“I must say, I’m rather torn. On one hand, that was one of the most delightful experiences I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying,” you said, crossing the distance to me.

“Thanks, Iggy,” I said, grinning, “But why do I have the feeling I’m not gonna wanna hear the second part?”

You chuckled at that. You pressed your lips together, eyes scintillating with thought. You reached up and draped your arms around my neck, your hands finding the tie in my hair and easing it out, causing my hair to fall down around my shoulders.

“Ever the optimist, Gladio, ever the optimist,” you said. I bent down to kiss the scar that ran across the tiny bump in your nose.

“More like realist,” I said quietly, still feeling too moved to put any real effort in the protest.

“As I was saying before being so crassly interrupted…” you started, smiling back at me, fingers threading through my hair and massaging my scalp, “On the other hand, I detest being wrong, but I must admit I’ve made a grave mistake. I would have sworn I knew everything there was to know about you, and yet here you are, surprising me all over again.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes,” I said, bringing my forehead down to rest against yours, sighing as you kept stroking my hair, “Wouldn’t want you getting bored on me.”

That made you laugh. “Boredom is the singular circumstance in which I am certain we won’t find ourselves,” you said. After a beat, “Where did you learn to play? When?”

“Iris took piano lessons as a kid. And then, of course, she needed help, so I ended up learning along the way,” I explained, “Iris kept up with it over the years and is still really good. I was rusty as hell when she first came to visit. Whipped my ass into shape real quick, though,” I said.

“Then… thank you, Gladio. What a gift,” you replied. And then you closed the space between our lips and kissed me, sweet and certain. My hands went to your waist, pulling you closer to me. A muted flame of desire had started to burn with the touch of your lips.

“Do you have to go? Any emergencies?” I asked, voice low.

“I’ve cleared my schedule for the evening,” you replied, “And anything else can wait.”

We kissed again, more urgent this time, your hand curled in my hair and pressing my mouth hard against yours. I drank you in, savouring the feel of your tongue against mine, of the hot, wet pressure as you took my lower lip between yours and sucked on it.

“Good,” I said as I drew back from you, “Because I did at least get a bed for this place. Feels like a shame if we don’t break it in.”

Making our way up the stairs to the bedroom was a slow process. Every couple of steps we’d stop, laughing, a jacket thrown over the banister, a shirt being taken off here, pants shimmied out of there. Gods, I wanted you so much I _ached_ with it, still feeling vulnerable as I came down from the act of making music with you. My need was broad and all encompassing, strong enough to drown in, a contrast to the sharpness of it in our youth.

“Will I ever get enough of you?” I rasped, taking your face in my hands and kissing you again, urgent and fierce. I’m addicted to the taste of you, of every bit of you - tongue, lips, skin, cock, come - and tonight was no exception. We were both breathless by the time I let you go long enough to speak, craving your mouth on mine too much to relinquish it.

“If you ever find the answer to that question, Gladiolus, do be sure to let me know. I find myself with the same dilemma,” you said. Your hand rested over my heart, your fingers teasing the edges of the large scar across my chest. When I met your eyes, the love I found in them brought tears to my eyes for the second time that night.

“Sure thing,” I agreed, voice husky. When you noticed a tear rolling down my cheek, you stood up on your toes and kissed it away.

It was you who led me to the bedroom, taking my hands in yours and walking backwards through the doorway, stealing more kisses along the way. It had taken such a long time, but you’d become more free with your affection, and that night I drank it in.

We stood beside the bed, hands roaming across each other’s bodies, tracing spines and carding through hair and pressing into skin. I needed you, needed _more_ of you, and you didn’t protest when I sank to my knees in front of you.

“Gladio…” you breathed, and there was that dazed look in your eyes that I longed to see.

I bent my head to your inner thighs, finding a spot I knew to be particularly sensitive and sucking on it. When I grazed my teeth against the flesh there, it drew a breathy moan from you that went straight to my groin. I lavished your thighs with open mouthed kisses, sometimes pausing to suck a mark on the skin there, delighting in the sight of you growing hard underneath your briefs.

I reached up and tugged the briefs down, groaning at the sight of your exposed cock. One of your hands came down to cradle my head, pressing me ever so slightly towards you, and I felt dizzy at the encouragement. I brought my hands to cup your ass as I began to lick you, my tongue tracing a vein along the underside of your cock. When I made my way back to the head of your cock, I took it in my mouth and ran my tongue along the slit at its tip.

Your breath hitched in your throat and your fingers tightened in my hair - not enough to hurt, but enough to urge me forward. I slid my mouth down your cock, taking as much of you as I could and swirling my tongue around the length of you. You moaned, long and loud, and I felt my dick jump at the sound.

You love when I use my hands as well as my mouth, so once you were nice and wet I added a hand as well. I worked your cock up and down, getting into a steady rhythm, letting it be a bit sloppy and messy because you like that too. The noises you made, _Astrals_ , I felt like I could come from those alone. The huffing breaths, the moans, the keening in the back of your throat… every sound shot straight through me, adding to that building fire of need.

You didn’t need to tell me to stop. I could tell from the way your legs started to tremble, from the way that your moans got louder and louder that if I kept going, you’d come. I withdrew my mouth from you and rose to my feet, my arms finding your waist and wrapping around it. You pulled me into a kiss, a little rough this time, nipping at my bottom lip with your teeth.

I needed all of you tonight, and I was not afraid to ask.

“Iggy… I want you to fuck me. Please,” I said, shutting my eyes and fighting the desire that rose in me at the words.

“But of course,” you purred against my neck, gesturing to the bed with one hand, palm upturned.

I climbed on the bed and you followed, its massive size more than enough for the two of us. I laid on my back and took off my boxers, my cock hard and straining towards my stomach. You climbed up beside me, pausing to stroke my cheek with a gentleness that nearly undid me.

“Would you prefer to get yourself ready? Or would you like me to?” you asked. Sometimes I liked when you watched me spread myself, but tonight was different.

“You, please,” I answered. I wanted to feel you inside me. Fingers, cock, it didn’t matter.

You leaned over to the singular bedside table, chuckling as you found the lube there.

“Perhaps you’ve learned a thing or two from me after all,” you said, locking your eyes with mine and giving me a heated smile. I grinned and shrugged.

After pouring a generous amount in your hand, you laid beside me and reached a hand between my thighs. You rested your head on my chest as you explored the cleft of my ass with your fingers, teasing my entrance with your fingertips. I spread my knees a bit, opening myself to you, and you obliged me by sliding what felt like two fingers inside of me.

As much as I love fucking you, I love being the subject of your attentions, too. I gasped as you started to work your fingers in and out of me, angling them to brush against my prostate and causing my cock to drip all over my belly. You lifted your head up to kiss me when you added a third finger, sliding your tongue in my mouth as you spread me open for you, and I moaned into the kiss. You’ve made me come with your fingers alone before, and sure enough my desire built under your skillful hands.

“You are truly a sight to behold,” you murmured, pupils edging out the green of your eyes. I bit my lip, savouring the feeling of fullness from your fingers.

“Right back at you,” I said, breath catching in my throat as you hit my sweet spot again.

“Are you ready for me?” you asked, voice low, and you thrust your fingers deep inside me as if to emphasize the point.

“ _Yes_ ,” I answered, trying to focus through the pleasure, “But lemme see your face while you’re fucking me.”

You laughed at that, quiet but hot, and withdrew your fingers. I shuddered as I watched you quickly coat your own cock in lube, your motions precise. You shifted on the bed so that you were between my spread legs. I lifted my legs to rest them on your shoulders, relaxing as you folded my body down, the tip of your cock brushing my entrance.

“Like this?” you asked, knowing damn well that’s how I wanted it. You ran your hands along the outsides of my thighs as I bucked my hips up towards you.

“Ignis… I need you. I need you so badly. _Fuck me_ ,” I growled, aching all over. When had you taken off your glasses? When had your cheeks gotten so pink? My whole world had narrowed to the feeling of wanting to be filled with you.

You pressed past the tight ring of my entrance, filled me like I asked, and I couldn’t think anymore.

We’ve always been able to find a rhythm, you and I, and sex is no exception. Once I got past the searing pleasure of your cock filling my ass, I started to rock with you. I buried my hands in your hair, pulled your face down to mine as you fucked me, kissing any part of your face I could reach. With you thrusting into me over and over again, with your tongue in my mouth, with your skin under my hands… I started to feel like I could breathe again. All my senses were full of you.

“I love when you give yourself to me this way,” you said, meeting my gaze as you spoke, voice low and tight.

“I’m yours, Iggy. Always have been,” I gasped, crying out as you angled your thrusts upward.

I reached my hand between our bodies and began to stroke myself in time with your thrusts, feeling myself start to fragment. You began to fuck me harder, planting both of your hands by my shoulders and rocking your hips into me over and over. 

“Fucking shit, _fuck_ , Astrals, _Ignis_ ,” I said through gritted teeth. There was a moment of white noise, the whole world going blank as pleasure coursed through me, and then I came. I felt your eyes on me through my orgasm, knowing you loved watching me come as much I loved watching you do the same.

You buried a hand in my hair and squeezed your eyes shut, your shaky breathing and flushed cheeks signaling you were close too.

“ _Gladiolus_ ,” you keened, burying yourself in me to the hilt as you came. I groaned as I felt you pulse inside me, straining my hips up towards you, trying to take as much of you as I could.

Everything was shaky and blissful for a few minutes after. When I blinked, I could still see stars behind my eyelids. You curled up in your traditional spot beside me and I basked in the warmth of you.

“I love you so fucking much, Ignis,” I said, stroking the back of your neck. “Seriously. I don’t even have the words.”

“And I you, Gladio,” you replied, your normally crisp consonants blurred around the edges. “Perhaps someday you’ll find the words you’re looking for, but for now, those will do just fine.”

* * *

We fell back into our work after that first night at my family home, the only difference being the split in our time. Sometimes we’d stay at the Citadel, sometimes we’d come back to the Amicitia manor, and sometimes you’d stay in your apartment when you needed to work or needed the space. I had never thought we would be so happy, yet here we were, finally living a normal life.

Except the gala.

The 1st Annual Dawn of Lucis Gala should have been named the 1st Annual Pain in my Ass Gala. I swear I had a headache for three weeks straight trying to arrange the security details, organize the guest lists, and form the guard rosters. I didn’t complain to you because, let’s face it, you’ve probably been dealing with shit like that since you were in your teens, but I was in a piss-poor mood all the same.

Like all rough times, I got through it, and soon the night arrived.

At least once the gala started, my job was very simple - stay by Noct and keep him safe. Sorry. King Noctis.

The Citadel was decked out in all its glory for the occasion. Beautiful gold and black decorations, soft lighting that reminded me of candlelight, piles and piles of delicious food everywhere, and more important people than you could shake a stick at. The Glaive were in fine form too, all dressed in their formal black and silver uniforms at their various stations.

And of course, after the party had started and a sufficient amount of mingling had been accomplished, the dancing began.

The grand ballroom hadn’t been used since King Regis’s time. But here it was, full of people and with a band at the ready. I couldn’t help but be reminded of parties at the Amicitia manor, or the palace Yuletide celebrations when we were kids.

Noct - and therefore, I - had a special place at the north end of the ballroom. It wasn’t quite as grand as in the throne room proper, but it was still fancy enough to be intimidating. I’d followed Noct around throughout the mingling phase, a stoic black shadow behind all of his interactions. Now that I was forced to stand still, I found myself getting antsy.

“Not gonna dance, Your Highness?” I asked him.

"I'll dance as soon as you start calling me by my proper title," Noct said.

"Someone's gotta keep you in check, what with all the bowing and scraping," I replied with a grin.

“Then... you know me. Never was much for dancing,” he said, his eyes not leaving the ballroom floor.

“Fair enough. Iggy said he practically had to drag you through your lessons,” I said.

Noct laughed at that, resting his chin on his hand as he surveyed the dancers.

“He did. Always patient, our Specs,” Noct replied.

Because we were talking about you, I couldn’t help but look for you in the crowd. You weren’t hard to spot. I thought you would be wearing royal black, but you’d opted for a pristine white shirt with a sky blue vest, your trousers black and immaculate. You were dancing with Aranea - the two of you cut a fine figure on the dance floor.

“Yeah,” I agreed, fixated on you.

Once the song ended, you parted ways with Aranea and made your way through the crowd. I didn’t know what you were saying to the people that stopped you, but I imagined the gist of it. You were so eloquent at functions like this, your words light and feathery and beautiful. Despite how introverted you were normally, you were able to turn on your considerable charm with enough advance notice. Another person swept you up into a dance when the next song started, a person I didn’t recognize.

I was a little bit jealous. A little bit.

I don’t know how much time passed. Several songs, at least. Many people approached Noct and I kept a close eye on them, but otherwise it was… boring. And torturous, given that I watched you move freely amongst the crowd and couldn’t be by your side.

“Captain,” Noct said, smirking.

“Your Highness,” I replied, all sarcasm.

“Are you going to guard me or spend all night watching Ignis?” Noct asked. Despite the words, his tone was light.

“Is there a reason I can’t do both?” I asked, turning to face our King.

“Just go dance with him. One dance won’t kill you. I do still have a whole arsenal of royal arms at my disposal, and I know how to use them,” Noct said.

I scowled in Noct’s direction.

“Your Highness…” I started.

“Do I need to make it an order?” Noct asked.

I folded my arms across my chest, considering. One singular dance wouldn’t hurt. And the timing would be good, since you had just finished dancing with Iris.

“No, _Your Majesty_ ,” I said, emphasizing the correct form of address as I placed a fist to my chest and bowed to Noct. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t die on me.”

“I’ll try not to,” Noct drawled, sounding for all the world like the prince we took to Altissia instead of the current King of Lucis.

You stood alone at the edges of the crowd, gripping a flute of untouched wine while your eyes roved the dance floor. When I tapped you on the arm, you turned to face me with that carefully neutral expression that I’ve learned means you’re displeased. But when you recognized me, it softened.

“Aren’t you supposed to be Shielding?” you asked, one corner of your lips upturned.

“I got permission to vacate my post for one dance,” I said, grinning at you. The band was keying up the notes for another song and I extended a hand toward you. “So… may I have this one?”

“Only if I lead,” you replied. I laughed at that, but let you lead me out onto the dance floor all the same.

Just like in the living room of the Amicitia manor, you placed one hand on my waist and took my other hand, holding it in the air.

It was like everyone else in the room disappeared. You led us expertly across the marble tiles of the dance floor, moving our bodies in time with the music. It’s always been easy to follow you, and follow you I did as we moved in circles along with the other pairs on the dance floor.

I had an idea. I’d had this idea for a long time, actually, but I thought this was the best moment for it. The song and our dance was coming to its conclusion.

“Iggy,” I started as we spun, trying to ignore some of the eyes that had begun to linger on us, “If I were going to do something stupid, would you want me to tell you first, or just do it and deal with it after?”

“That… that very much depends on the circumstances, Gladio,” you replied, your eyes narrowing to green-blue slits as you studied me.

“Ok, then let’s say it wouldn’t be _that_ bad. Not life or death or anything. Just… maybe a little foolish.”

“In that case, I’d say-”

I didn’t let you finish. The song had come to its end and I kissed you, full on the lips, in front of all the gala guests. We hadn’t exactly kept our relationship a secret, not for many years, but we hadn’t come out in public about it either. And I wanted very badly to just… live my life with you by my side and not have to worry about secrets anymore.

You made an undignified noise, your eyes going wide. But after a few moments, you relaxed, kissing me back, chaste but sweet all the same.

“That was all,” I said, grinning at you, enjoying the sight of you speechless as I went back to my post.

* * *

It was the morning after the gala that made me decide to write this letter.

I woke up - after you, of course - and headed to the kitchenette in our Citadel quarters in desperate need of coffee. I found you first, sitting on the couch with a steaming mug of coffee, and went over to greet you.

“Morning, Iggy,” I said, bending down from behind the couch to kiss the top of your head.

“Good morning, Gladiolus,” you said.

Oh no. Full name, and this early in the morning.

“What did I do?” I asked, wary.

You reached up over your head to hand me your phone. When I looked at the screen, I saw a lovely picture of us kissing at the gala with the words _Royal Retainer Romance_ emblazoned over the top of it. I couldn’t help myself - I started laughing.

“Wow,” I said, “We finally made it big time. In the tabloids and everything. Took them long enough.”

You remained very, very silent.

“Annnnd… you’re not laughing,” I said, circling around the couch to sit beside you. You sighed and ran a hand through your unstyled hair.

“This is exactly the kind of complication I wanted to avoid, Gladio,” you said, eyes looking off into the distance.

“Who cares?” I asked, putting an arm around your shoulders, “They’ll get bored eventually.”

“It’s just…” you started, sighed again, “It’s another item on the long list of tiresome things for me to deal with. Damage control.”

I had another idea, perhaps as stupid as the one at the gala, but I couldn’t help myself.

“We could just make it official. Then they wouldn’t have anything to gossip about,” I said, watching for your reaction as I did. You turned towards me and met my eyes, raising one eyebrow in response.

“Did you… did you just propose marriage in the most roundabout, backhanded manner possible?” you asked, amusement and incredulity warring in your voice.

“Yeah,” I said, “I guess I did.”

“Well, Gladiolus Amicitia,” you said, picking up your mug of coffee and taking a smug sip, “While I’m not inherently opposed to the idea, your proposal is going to have to be better than that to get an acceptance.”

That very same night, I began to write.

* * *

And that’s our story so far.

I’ve told you everything now, every scrap of every thought I’ve had about you all these years. If you’ve gotten to the end of this massive letter, then I have to thank you for sticking by my side through yet another journey.

I love you, Ignis. Always have, always will. I love you so much that the thought of losing you is the only thing that truly scares me anymore.

But I also know that your love, however infinite it might be, is yours and yours alone to give. No matter what your answer is, I will be whatever you need me to be until the last breath leaves my body, until my bones are nothing more than ash in the wind. We are bound together, the two of us, a bond that will last beyond this lifetime and well into the next. This, I am sure of.

There’s something enclosed with this letter, if it didn’t get lost in all the paper (sorry, I’m old school). You know the question that goes along with it. But, since I also know it will drive you crazy if I don’t ask it outright, here it is:

Will you marry me?

I’ll be waiting, Iggy. When you’re ready.

Forever yours,  
Gladiolus

**4.25 - Solstice**  
_"All, everything that I understand, I only understand because I love." — Leo Tolstoy_

Ignis folded the last sheet of paper several times, smoothing the same edge down over and over again. He finally placed it face down at the top of the pile that held the rest of the letter, but that last page was by far the most worn of the bunch. Wrinkles splintered into a million tiny veins that reminded Ignis of the scars he bore from that fateful night many years ago.

He’d read Gladio’s final words by the gentle light of dawn and by the streetlights that filtered through his apartment windows. He had studied them on a park bench in the hazy summer twilight, the corners of the missive flapping in a passing breeze. He had pulled them from his breast pocket in a Lucian café, sipping espresso, eyes drawn back to the same phrase over and over again.

_Your love, however infinite it might be, is yours and yours alone to give._

The day before, he’d taken them to King Noctis - Noct - the Advisor in need of advice. The pair cloistered inside the king’s office, beams of noon sun filtering through the Citadel’s spires. Noct took the sheet without comment, his deep blue eyes scanning the page. Ignis stood beside the king’s desk. The only outward sign of his anxiety was the budding and blossoming of the fists at his side.

“I assume this is what’s had you preoccupied,” Noct asked once he’d finished, returning the sheet to Ignis. Ignis accepted the page and inclined his head to one side.

“Indeed. Along with all the usual bits and bobs,” Ignis said.

“Do you want my permission or something?” Noct asked, his words sliding along the scale of king to friend.

“No, no, I…” Ignis started, giving a little frown as he considered. What did he want? “It’s only, with me acting as your Advisor and he as your Shield, I worry that a possible conflict of interest might-”

Noct stood from his desk, cloak billowing out behind him. Before Ignis could finish his sentence, Noct reached out and took both of Ignis’s hands in his.

“If you’re asking for my opinion, I think it’s high time you were a little selfish. You’re making the rest of us look bad,” Noct said, giving Ignis a smile that belonged more to the youth of 12 years ago than to the current King of Lucis.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Ignis said, and even lowering his face couldn’t completely hide his brilliant grin.

And so here Ignis was, long limbs curled up on his couch, alone with his thoughts and the letter once more.

And the ring.

He held the silver band in one palm, rolling it back and forth with the thumb of his opposite hand. The craftsmanship was undeniably exquisite, the metal engraved with feathers that circled around the ring and set with a modest but beautiful emerald; the green gem sparkled in the soft lamplight of Ignis’s living room.

Gladio had truly hit the highest and the lowest points of their years together, his narrative unflinching, bittersweet, and above all singing with _truth_.

Reading the letter had taken him through a gauntlet of emotions, and when he thought of Gladio now, all of them swirled together like moonlit fog in his chest. He thought of Gladio’s strength, of the many times he’d carried Ignis through the years, both physically and metaphorically. He thought of the passion Gladio possessed, the passion that he could wield with the finesse of a fencer or with the force of a thunderstorm, roiling and raw. He pictured Gladio’s face in his mind, glittering amber eyes and myriad scars, and he thought his heart might burst in his chest before he ever got the chance to speak to him.

But underneath the detritus and treasures of their lives together, Ignis found the one continuous thread that wove between them, sometimes bright as starlight and sometimes black as the sky beneath: _love_.

Ignis’s gaze drifted back to the ring in his palm. He took a breath, steadied himself, and slipped it on the third finger of his left hand. It fit as well as he and Gladio had always fit together, and Ignis took it as all the confirmation he needed.

He felt the telltale prickle of tears at the backs of his eyes, swallowed past a lump in his throat, and picked up the phone that lay on the table beside him. He tapped Gladio’s name on his list of contacts.

The phone rang once, twice, three times. Ignis feared it might go to voicemail, but a familiar voice answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey, Iggy,” Gladio’s voice, steady and sure. A lifeline and a heartbeat all in one.

“Gladio,” Ignis started, his voice breaking as tears slid across his smile, “I have your answer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much if you've made it to the end of this journey with me. Comments and kudos breathe life back into my aching heart.
> 
> I never expected to fall so hard for Gladnis or to find such kind, caring people in the FFXV fandom, but here we are. [You can find me contemplating my next fic on Tumblr - don't be shy about dropping a line!](http://aliatori.tumblr.com/)


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